I Started A Joke
by IKnowAlma
Summary: How did Harleen Quinzel become Harley Quinn? The past that gave the Joker an opening, the meeting that changed their lives, and the psychiatrist who kept reaching further into that deep, dark pit not noticing she was being lured there.
1. Chapter 1 - Little Princess

Chapter 1 – Little Princess

Harleen looked over the letter one last time. She could still hardly believe it. Interning as a psychiatric evaluator at Blackgate Prison had not seemed the most promising of ventures; it had almost felt like her years of university funded by a fortunate scholarship had turned out to be a waste. She'd been kept from the most interesting cases and had been threatened to reconsider her diagnosis for more than one patient to ensure they were faced with the death penalty. Honestly, the corruption in the system felt worse than the people she was trying to help; and they'd done some pretty bad things.

She'd expected to get some two-bit part in a prison somewhere else at the end of her residency but this letter had been the light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak. A job offer at the newly established Arkham Asylum. Well, re-established since it had been shutdown but now reopened by Jeremiah Arkham, the nephew of the deceased founder.

If she played her cards right, and she was going to make sure she did, she'd be able to treat the most infamous criminal minds Gotham City had to offer. This was her ticket to her big break; psychology students the world over would be reading her book in their classes.

Harleen grinned excitedly to herself at the thought, giggling in the privacy of her apartment. This was what she had wanted since she was a little girl sitting in the other chair. It wasn't just a dream of fame and putting her name in the history books; she also empathised with the criminally insane. Reflecting on her past her eyes wandered to the photo that sat neatly on the bookshelf near the front door. A tiny Harleen Quinzel wrapped her arms around the big neck of her father. Images flashed before her eyes, memories of before she had been treated.

Harleen believed wholeheartedly that her father had been a good man once. He still had the potential to be good. He didn't mean to hit her mother, just sometimes he lost his temper and she'd learnt in her sessions that that was an after affect of his childhood, his past. But he'd never hit her. She was his little princess. He didn't mean to kill mummy. He didn't mean it. She told the police officers as such when they came to collect him.

She'd gone to stay with her aunt and then Harleen started seeing a psychiatrist. She visited her father in prison against her family's wishes but encouraged by her doctor. It was part of the healing process. There'd been a prison riot. One of the men had gone to hit her, probably do worse. She was daddy's little princess. The red had been so vivid, like roses blooming.

Harleen shook her head. She still found she got lost in memories occasionally with a sense of disassociation. It always reminded her to take her medication. When she'd popped her pills she moved on to her appearance. She had to look perfect for her first day. Professional with just that hint of allure that helped her coerce men, as they were always her superiors, to let her get away with things. She knew a lot of men thought her ditzy; but she had enough awareness to use what she had and she used it.

Today she wore a crimson dress shirt, buttoned low enough to show some cleavage when she wore a push up bra, a modest pencil skirt and matching red heels. Her ensemble would be finished off with her medical coat when she got in. Though it was ill advised when dealing with criminals, especially the criminally insane, she still wore jewellery. She wanted to show her true personality in some fashion so she usually chose something childlike and playful. Today little ice creams hung from her ears, her necklace a dangling mixture of sweets.

Throwing on her glasses almost as an afterthought, they were a lower prescription for reading that she didn't entirely need but she felt gave a more intellectual air, she strutted out her door ready to make an impression. The drive to Arkham Asylum highlighted the corruption of the city. Grungy streets where pedestrians ignored the police officers in the middle of a shakedown because they didn't want to be caught up in it, gangsters almost openly robbing places. The city was cancerous and needed a cure. She liked to believe the Asylum was it. All these broken people growing up in a broken place; there was no room for healing. She would change that.

With a confident pace to her walk when she arrived, Harleen acted like she already worked here every day. One of the things she remembered about her mother was her saying that if you showed enough authority people would think you were meant to be there, would accept it. Her mother had used it to get them into a lot of free events.

"Ah! Doctor Quinzel! I am glad you accepted my offer." Jeremiah greeted looking up from some paperwork that was held out to him by the construction company's bookkeeper.

"Thank you Doctor Arkham. I'm not gonna lie, I was excited to receive your invitation. The work you intend to do, to continue in legacy is very important work." Harleen replied, taking his hand, letting her fingers rest just far enough to gently touch his wrist in the handshake. It was a simple gesture that always managed to endear her to the other party with the suggestion of intimacy.

"I'm glad you agree. Good doctors like you are who I need to prove to this city that we _can_ make a difference." Arkham conceded with a broad, friendly smile. He finished signing his papers before leading Harleen to an office that was clearly intended to be a staff meeting room. Comfortable lounges sat in one corner while the majority was taken up with whiteboards, bookshelves littered with professional reference books and a large table flanked by many chairs. It seemed Arkham had strong ambitions to hire many practitioners to help treat their patients.

"Dr Quinzel, I'd like you to meet two of your colleagues, Professor Strange and Doctor Sinner." Jeremiah introduced the two people already seated in the room; an older balding gentleman and another young woman with her hair wrapped in ribbons. Harleen greeted them with an open smile before glancing back as a fifth member arrived to join them.

"Ah! And this is Doctor Crane! With that we have our first experts gathered to begin this asylum anew." Arkham offered, waving the young man over to join them.

Introductions over with, their meeting commenced. It was a long superfluous speech of the ideals and dreams of Doctor Arkham and what he wanted to achieve at the asylum. He confirmed that he too would be treating patients while doing his best to recruit more psychologists and psychiatrists to help them show Gotham that the criminally insane deserved a second chance at life and sanity.

He then went on to establish that he was still getting the approval to take on some of the more famous inmates of Blackgate so for now they would be treating the 'traditional' forms of insanity. In the meantime the facilities would finish up construction in preparation for these 'characters'. Harleen labelled them this herself; Gotham seemed to have given rise to a particular breed of insanity that had people creating entire identities for their criminal activities and if the rumours were true, even their vigilantes went so far as to fashion themselves artistically after something as unusual as bats. It was these types of people that Harleen wanted to pry open and unravel. In the days to come she would prove to be efficient at it.

* * *

"Harleen, have you seen the news?" Leslie asked ducking her head into her colleague's office. She was finishing off her latest report on Alyssa 'The Witch' Wade. She was making great progress with a criminal who had been considered mute when she first arrived. But it still wasn't enough; she wasn't the one who would get Harleen her big break.

"Huh?" She responded absently making it clear she hadn't heard a word.

"Come on Quins. Pay attention." Leslie huffed pulling out her phone to quickly show the blonde a news article. "You know all those massive explosions on Christmas Eve?"

"The ones they thought were caused by The Penguin?" Harleen asked but she was soon distracted by the pictures in the news article.

"It's now confirmed they were caused by that new player. The one calling himself the Joker. He rigged up a nightmare amusement park last night. Lots of people are dead. He's making a claim on territories in the city and none of the other gangs seem to be able to stop him." Leslie explained while Harleen looked at the blurry photo taken from a helicopter. The man's skin could really use some sunshine and his hair was a vibrant green. It was so unusual and a mark that he would most likely turn out to be another psychotic cog in the broken wheel of Gotham.

Harleen wasn't entirely wrong about that assessment. But he had a far greater part than just being a cog in the machine. He wanted to be the hand that tipped it over and smashed it to pieces. In the next three months he practically succeeded. Chaos reigned supreme, his name was seen on the front of every paper, and the kill count grew. The Batman apprehended him five times but each time he was out of Blackgate before the sun had risen.

He was known as the Clown Prince of Crime; at times he had the calculative leadership of someone who could take over a city but at other times his attacks were wanton massacres and they were almost always some form of performance. If anyone survived they spoke about his laugh; that haunting sound of a deranged man with no fear. He'd shoot his best friend if it made a good punchline. Batman became his favourite joke of all. The view of the public; he was crazy and Harleen watched that with great interest like the rest of her colleagues.

Then one day he didn't escape Blackgate. Batman had made sure of that. So now gathered in the staff room which was filled with a squadron of psychiatrists and psychologists after all of Jeremiah's hard work, they watched the news reports of Joker's hearing with keen interest. Harleen held her breath; a man like that, a broken mind like that. She needed to be the one treating him. There would be no greater mind to pry open and fix.

"It has been confirmed that the Joker has been tried as insane." Vicki Vale began, the rest of her spiel lost on Doctor Quinzel as excitement flooded her chest. Doctor Arkham was already out the door, no doubt heading to his office to file a request that this psychopath be transferred to his institution.

Harleen gave it just enough time to seem respectable and professional. Others had beaten her to it but appearing too keen was a bad move.

"Doctor Arkham." She greeted politely as she entered his office at the end of the day.

"And what honeyed words are you going to offer me for a chance at that mind?" Jeremiah asked without pretence. He was well aware that every one of his employees was fighting for a chance at the Clown Prince. Well, except maybe those on security, they were probably anxious out of their minds.

"I think my work speaks for itself." The blonde woman decided she'd play at his pace. There was no sweet talking a man of his level, he'd be too aware of it. It might even risk her job. He seemed amused by some of her subtle attempts at endearing herself earlier on but this would be pushing her luck.

"Yes, you have been doing fantastic haven't you? The Witch. Firefly. Mad Hatter. You show excellent promise." Arkham observed glancing to his in tray filled with reports from multiple doctors, some of which were hers. Harleen's poker face faltered. Promise was potential. Potential meant she wasn't trusted with something that big. It took her a second to compose her anger which stirred memories of her father's meaty hands and the wet sound of the impacts.

"Can I ask why you don't think I'm up for it?" She finally persisted. If it was something the young woman could prove to him that she could change or overcome then she might still have a chance.

"Harleen. You are a young, beautiful doctor. A man like Joker. It'd be too dangerous." Jeremiah said the seemingly affectionate words but to Quinzel they were like a death sentence. The sounds of her dreams shattering on the floor.

* * *

She didn't remember what happened the night she was denied. She recalled going out drinking after her shift was over and drinking a lot. Her knuckles were bruised when she woke up. She self-prescribed an extra dose of her medications and spent the next few days in a numb haze. That is until the fateful day the Joker arrived at Arkham Asylum.

Everyone was warned to be professional; business as usual. But all the staff seemingly had an excuse to be near the hallways to watch his arrival. Harleen was standing in her office doorway with Leslie pretending they were on their way out.

Even without his vibrant appearance it was hard to miss the arrival of a single man flanked by eight guards. His wrist and ankles had been chained close together giving him very limited movement. He had already exchanged his orange jumpsuit for the drab grey-navy of the inmates. A great big grin split his face almost unnaturally, framed by red lips that contrasted with his pale skin. His hair was still green. Why had they been letting him dye his hair? Gotham police, especially those at Blackgate, weren't exactly known for their leniency. Harleen itched to get into his file and read all there was about him.

His muscles flexed as he tried to gesture like his entrance was some grand performance with a killer joke to come. His amusement was split in irritation for the briefest of seconds because of his restraints ruining the theatrics.

"I'm here all week ladies and gentlemen! Though my act may not commence at an exact time so I can't give you the schedule." He boasted again like this was all part of some plan. He continued to rant and rave, gracing them with entire soliloquies of inconsequential information. He laughed at his own incarceration.

"I wonder how Lyle is going to do…" Leslie questioned as they watched the infamous madman disappear around a corner on the way to the maximum security facilities. Harleen shrugged; still bitter that someone else had been assigned the Clown Prince. Secretly she hoped he'd fail and she'd get another shot.

She got another three. They were all declined and she finally resigned herself that she would be rejected on inexperience alone no matter how she proved herself. She traded her colourful accessories for something boring and plain as an outward display of her poor mood. Arkham wasn't having any luck with any of the doctors he'd assigned; why was he still denying her? Clearly no one else was up for it.

Lyle had become a sobbing mess in the first week, his confused babbling shortly allocating him as one of Leslie's new patients when he shot a store clerk after work. Pierce lost an eye three weeks into his treatment of their clown when the Joker had gotten a hold of his pen, and Raj resigned in his second month. No one knew where he went after.

Each handover Doctor Arkham himself took charge of their patient. He'd leave their sessions with a look that seemed a mixture of profound knowledge and sheer terror. Not so many people were attempting to be assigned the madman anymore.

"Harleen, can I see you in my office for a second?" Jeremiah called out one day while she was taking her lunch with Leslie. They exchanged a cautious glance before Quinzel abandoned her workplace friend and followed her boss through the halls. Anxiety and excitement mixed inside of her in some toxic concoction that her rational mind tried to quell. He'd rejected her enough times; she had to accept that the Joker was not hers to cure.

"I've heard Alyssa's release has gone smoothly these past three months. Alberto's too. I'm glad Strange requested you take his case. They're still visiting for follow up sessions?" Jeremiah began. It was polite pretence and Harleen did her best to be patient through it.

"Yes. I make sure to keep close contact with them to ensure that should they relapse we are well aware before it happens. But I'm confident they will be good members of society. Alberto's father has shown encouraging support to help us with his rehabilitation." Harleen explained even though she knew he would have seen it all in her reports. Her eyes wandered to a manila folder on his desk. It looked rather small making her heart sink. The Joker's would surely be a massive bundle. She was being assigned a new patient. She tried to hide her disappointment but it showed in her blue eyes.

"Yes, very good, very good." Arkham complimented not even noticing her change in demeanour as he moved behind his desk.

"Doctor Quinzel…I want to assign a particularly special case to you. At the cost of eating my own words; I think you might be the one with the different approach to suit him." He began, fingering the folder in front of him cautiously. Harleen tried to smile encouragingly but it was half hearted in her bitterness.

"What I'm trying to say is…" He took a deep breath to soothe his pride. "So far the Joker has proved…unaffable to our attempts to get to know anything about him. It has stalled his treatment. I think it's time to try a different approach; one I feel you are all too familiar with." Arkham explained with the flustered mannerisms of a man who had been proven wrong. Harleen stared back at him wide eyed too stunned to comprehend what she was being told.

"Pardon?" She said though she had heard every word. Arkham nodded his head seeming to understand why she would be so shocked. It was a fair reaction considering his months of stubborn refusal.

"Harleen, this folder here is all we have on him. This is it. I need to make some sort of progress and so far nothing has worked. I want to try something different." He continued waving the folder out to her like a fishhook. She resisted the urge to snatch it from his hands. "I understand if you don't want to do this anymore after what happened to the others but you'd have armed guards during your sessions and-"

"That would hardly inspire trust." Harleen interrupted finally giving in to her urges and wrenching the folder from his grip. A look of concern crossed Jeremiah's face but it was followed by a sort of resigned air that hinted he was out of options.

"Harleen, we do want to work to cure him but he _is_ dangerous. At least for the first session to see how we go." He commented despite his better judgement warning him that her reaction was a red flag.

"This is really it?" She brushed the sentiment aside once she had opened her treasure box. A photo of the mass murderer, a big grin plastered across his face. He still had blood on his cheek. He had less tattoos when it was taken. The only name they had for him was Joker; they hadn't even gotten his actual name out of him.

There was a brief description of his appearance and Harleen learnt that the pale skin, red lips, and emerald hair weren't make-up or dye. His hair really grew out green. Every attempt to find out why he had these bizarre traits had been met with tall tales from the notes of her predecessors. Most times he said he was born this way; sometimes he said a god of chaos had cursed him, other times he worked in a chemical lab that exploded. The general consensus was that they were all lies.

His history was as blank as his name. No idea who he was before he appeared in the streets blowing up buildings, taking over gangs and their territory. Just character traits listed in four different sets of handwriting and a base diagnosis that usually came down to a mixture of sociopath symptoms and bipolar disorder. He had too many conflicting traits for an official diagnosis so far. Harleen drew a breath when she came to one of Pierce's pages which detailed Joker's general resistance to every attempt to discuss himself, always veering the topic back to his doctor; the page had been splashed in blood.

"I should really write that one up to replace the original. Don't let him near your pen." Arkham warned staring at the splotch. "That is if you still want to accept?" He asked deciding he should not presume. Harleen looked up through her glasses with deadpan eyes as if enquiring if he had to bother to ask.

"Of course I will. As I told you. We do important work. Fixing someone like this is what I signed up for." Quinzel declared silently adding in her head that she'd show Arkham how much a fool he was for denying her. She'd have the Joker confessing his life story to her in the first month.

"Well…good." Jeremiah stated in numb shock with a hint of relief in his voice. "I look forward to seeing how your sessions pan out with him." It was a dismissal. Understanding that, she clutched her trophy to her chest and prepared to leave. "And Quinzel…really do be careful with him. I don't want to lose anymore staff."

Harleen smiled back at him pleasantly with the slight tilt of her head that could be construed as flirty; endearing herself again to try and make sure she never lost her newest patient. She _would_ fix him and become famous for it.

* * *

((A/N: Another 'I wanted to work on other stuff but inspiration hit me with a bat and I couldn't leave well enough alone'. All started because I stumbled across Angela Zhang's version of I Started a Joke then listened to the Suicide Squad soundtrack, then had to watch it again. Now here we are with my mess of a take on Harleen's downfall. I wanted to get a look into her head as well as the Joker's and work out how Harleen became Harley. I just love the extended flashback scenes and had to dissect them in my own way. Don't know if I'm doing this crazy pair justice but practice is practice, right?

For the most part I've tried to draw from the movie while grabbing things from the comics and the Arkham games. Joker and Harley I've tried to take some influence from their Arkham iterations as well just because I love them so much (really fun games, highly recommend at least Origins if you've never checked them out). I also really wanted to build a foundation for why Harley is so susceptible to Mr J and tolerant of his abuse by crafting a messy childhood.

Updates might be less frequent than my usual pace when submitting stories but we'll see. Like always, constructive criticism is cherished. I feel like I should say it's good to be back again but I guess long breaks only to return with new fandoms is my trend.))


	2. Chapter 2 - Going Through a Stage

Chapter 2 – Going Through a Stage

Harleen checked over her appearance in the mirror. She had to leave for work soon but she wanted to make sure she was dressed to perfection.

After that fateful day she'd gone home and researched from every angle all she could about the Joker. He seemed to have an affinity for purple so she'd chosen to wear a violet dress shirt today. Her pencil skirt was just the slightest bit shorter than normal; she wanted to see if her advantages were suited to a madman as well even though her better judgement said she should wear slacks. The black heels she wore were at least slightly shorter than usual. As determined to prove herself as she was she had taken Arkham's advice to be careful. Heels were hard to run in.

Satisfied she blew a kiss to the photo of her father and the one of her mother beside it asking them to wish her luck and then she was on her way. Nerves and excitement mixed inside her stomach, twisting it so much she skipped breakfast. Like a kid counting down the hours to Christmas morning, she watched the clock for ten thirty, the allotted time when she would start her first ever session, the beginning of her successful future. She hardly even paid attention to her other patients she was so distracted. Then the anointed hour arrived.

* * *

"Thanks Gregory. You always do such a good job of making sure I'm snug in my rug." Joker snarled in a breathy tone that implied aloofness. Really he was thinking of the best way to thank Greg when he inevitably got out. What was a poetic death for being bound too tightly? A torture wrack maybe? But that would be so hard to get and he was already having so much trouble contacting his people outside these castle walls.

He saw the look cross the security guard's eye that suggested he wanted to hit him but knew the coward wouldn't. At least not while Arkham was still in charge. The big boss didn't have a whole lot of tolerance for guards turning out to be just as bad as the cops he was 'saving' his patients from. But Joker had already cracked that egg; boss man would easily slip into violent habits given the right push. Everyone was capable of it.

Except maybe Batman. He was a weird exception. Okay, granted he did do the violence. But the no killing thing, that was weird. No matter how many times Joker tried to pin all the people he killed on Batman for showing him mercy the masked thug never seemed to want to beat his head in until he ceased to be, barring when he broke his teeth. But even then, he still hadn't killed him. What was up with that?

Joker's inner monologue was interrupted as his guards returned with his newest victim. Seemed old boss man never wanted to keep chatting with him for more than a few sessions. He was heartbroken.

But his aloof mental theatrics were disturbed when he saw the woman entering his interrogation cell, cause that's what this place was. Hell, they'd even strapped him to the chair and put cuffs on his ankles and wrists. What sort of therapist can't restrain their guest with words?

He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly at this one. Blonde hair in a neat bun, heels going click clack on the floor, the pencil skirt. It was revolting.

"Hello Joker. I'm your new psychiatrist." She greeted. She had an accent but he couldn't place it. She'd worked hard to hide it he noted but it was still there, just under the surface. How boring trying to assimilate. Deciding that he shouldn't scoff at a new toy, Joker broke into his widest grin. Every time he smiled Greg flinched so at least he had that but she sincerely smiled back. What a fool.

"And who is the latest journalist come to interrogate every bit of juicy gossip out of the star of the show?" He gestured as theatrically as his handcuffed hands allowed which considering the restraints strapping him to his chair, was a dip of his head as he raised his forearms as far as the chains would permit gesturing to her. For the ditsy blonde she clued on pretty quick as to what he meant. He saw the recognition in her eyes as she assessed his words. Not that dumb. He was vaguely impressed.

"My name's Doctor Quinzel. From what I hear the other journalists haven't gotten a peep out of you." She replied playing along with his joke. He bared his teeth in a snarl somewhere between amusement and irritation; she couldn't butt in on his punchline. Not to mention she had offered her hand with her name only to realise he couldn't reach out far enough to take it. It would have been a perfect opportunity to see how she scared. She seemed to come to realise the restraints were limiting him beyond attempts at violence and she turned to the other guy; Joker couldn't remember his name. He liked to call him blank slate because of his vague expression.

"Do we really need to do this much?" She asked implying that she wanted to remove at least some of the restrictions. Joker watched her exchange with the guards with a curious eye. This dumb bitch was sympathetic. He could work with that. Ohhh, this would be a good joke.

She almost stomped her foot when Greg formerly denied her request to at least unstrap his arms. A frown creased her pretty little face as she took a seat opposite him dropping a familiar and gleefully small folder in front of her. She kept a firm grip on her pen.

"I'll try and get you more freedom next session." She promised in a hushed tone like she was sharing some delightful secret with him. He leaned in conspiratorially letting his manic grin spread.

"Like a trip out these walls doc?" He asked letting his mouth gape open playfully. Quinzel sat back like she'd been slapped. Of course she didn't want to deny him, she was going for a best buddies approach and saying no wasn't a good start.

Ha…! Ha…! Haaa…!" Joker's maniacal laugh filled the room. He saw from his squinted eyes that Greg had shifted his hold on his gun as if to prepare himself. Quinzel looked uncomfortable, swallowing a little when he tilted his head to the side to look at her clearly again. What was she even doing here? What was Arkham thinking? Oh, but he shouldn't look his gift horse in her pretty little mouth.

"Come on doc, show me them pearly whites! It was a good joke." He begged raising his arms so they sat against his chest from their limited movement, emphasising with jazz hands since it was all he could do. She smiled but it was a polite one that annoyed him changing his grin to a sneer in a split second. She tried to look professional by shuffling the rather blank papers in front of her, hiding her apprehension at the difference.

"So Joker…what am I to call you? You're not going to give me a name like with the others are you?" She asked changing tact. He dusted his tongue along his lips sitting back in his chair and assessing her with a tilted head and an annoyed expression. She faltered, only slightly but he saw it. Was this actually a good joke or a bad one?

"How about star of the show? Trump card? Maybe Clown Prince?" He listed off several other titles biting his tongue slightly to hide his amusement when she raised her eyebrows and gave him the expression a mother gives a disobedient child who isn't being _too_ naughty. Oh, she _was_ going to be fun.

"Well, if you won't give me a name that I can tack Mr on the front of to be professional I'm going to have to call you Mr J." She declared scribbling something down on her blank slate in the folder. Joker kept a stoic expression though he felt annoyance bubble inside of him but also something close to humour. That was more irritating.

"Well that's hardly fair Quin-zel." He began emphasising his pronunciation of her name in a playful way. He stretched his mouth like an actor preparing to perform, chewing over the word and deciding if he liked it. She was patient through it all, even smiled a little. There we go, he was entertaining her. That was a start.

"I can't have you giving me a nickname without giving you one in return. But what can I do with Quin-zel. Quinz. Quinzy." Again he earned that patient adoring expression. Oh, this was going to be a piece of cake. But did he gobble it up or throw it at someone's face?

"Well how about Harleen. Anything you want to do with that?" She provided in a friendly manner. This drew a genuine chuckle out of Joker, how could it not? Oh, this toy was _made_ for him. There was too much irony in that name. Delight swelled in his chest making him lean in again, drawing her in with excited eyes. Just a little closer and she'd have his secret; oh, she'd feel like she'd accomplished so much in this first little session.

"Do your friends call you Harley?" He asked. She had that vacant fish out of water expression that confirmed he'd achieved what he wanted. _Ohhh_, it was almost _too_ easy.

"Well I don't have many…they call me Harleen." She corrected realising she had lost control of the session. A playful wink of the tip of his tongue between his teeth while he grinned helped her understand he'd intended this. She really did have to be careful.

Sitting back in her chair she tried to ignore the way he watched her. Joker made her feel like the lamb in front of the wolf; something she found terribly exhilarating and she shouldn't have admitted that to herself. Wanting to regain the upper hand she took a deep breath and checked her notes for the questions she had wanted to ask on their first short session in an attempt to get him to open up. She needed to show promise right from the get go.

"You like jokes?" She asked like they were making small talk over a dinner. Joker blinked rapidly, part exaggeration part genuine puzzlement and curiosity over where exactly she was going with this tactic. He showed her that snarling smile again.

"It's in the name." He replied casually sitting back again and biding his time.

"What's your favourite joke?" The question was so…innocent, so bizarre that he was honestly surprised. Aside from the enigma that was Batman, he hadn't been shocked a great deal in his life. But this stupid little doctor had asked him such a benign question. He ran his tongue along his teeth as he digested it and took it seriously. Or at least appeared to. Batman? No, that joke wasn't finished. He couldn't choose that one yet. Society? Corruption?

Harleen noted that his playful portrayal had been broken. There was a keen mind under the surface, one she had to be wary of. But like a child he could be distracted and begin opening up to vulnerabilities. At least she thought that's what was happening.

"There's just too many…how about this one. Did you hear about the actor who fell through the floorboards?" He spoke up after a long minute where is gaze shifted, like he was aware he needed to be guarded with what he said. Harleen shook her head with an interested expression, ready to laugh at whatever he said.

"He was just going through a stage!" Joker finished it with his constrained jazz hands enticing a giggle from Harley's lips. He frowned immediately after seeming to have changed his mind. "Nah, not right." He went back to whatever swirl of thoughts had kept him silent. She itched to pry his mind open but with someone who had done their best to turn her predecessors into emotional wrecks she had to be patient.

"A survivor from your theme park said you were talking about setting up a good joke for Batman. The bombs, the deaths. They're punchlines, right?" She pressed on earning that same tilted head expression from earlier. The one that told her she'd done something he had not expected. But this was something she had anticipated. She was used to being underestimated.

By the end of their first session she had learnt nothing of value, not anything she could put in her report anyway. But she made notes in a personal journal later on about what kind of jokes he liked, her suspicions of his opinions of Gotham. The way his expression changed and covered his true intentions. He definitely was a performer.

She was completing the finishing touches on her official report when Arkham popped in to see how she went.

"Can I request we remove the restraints next week?" She asked. She wanted to have daily sessions too but she knew that was out of the question. Especially when she had nothing to show for it just yet. But she knew under the surface was a mind that would be fascinating to observe.

"Harleen, he stabbed a doctor in the eye. We've been considering a straight jacket for some time." Jeremiah elaborated patiently clearly thinking she was still naive to his dangers. That's what the guards were there for, right?

"Can we at least unbind his arms? He can stay strapped in the chair but the cuffs and the arm restrictions will hardly make him open up." She tried to rebuke. Arkham winced in disagreement that freedom of movement would make him more cooperative. "Please Jeremiah. I think getting him to trust me, to think I'm helpless is the key here. He was beginning to let his guard down with my indirect approach." It wasn't entirely a lie. Arkham breathed slowly through his nose.

"Okay. But if he lunges at you, listen to whatever your guards tell you to do. Let them do whatever they have to, to restrain him." Arkham relented. Quinzel didn't even bother with her professional mask letting a delighted grin spread across her face, almost squealing like the spoiled princess whose father had relented. She would show them what she could do.

* * *

"You're in a very bad mood today Gregory." Joker observed as he was roughly shoved into his chair. He chewed the inside of his lip once they had restrained him again. He still hadn't managed to get a message out. It was aggravating. He had not anticipated this level of security at a nuthouse or how well they conducted their background checks before hiring. But this woman was his plan C…maybe plan D…eh, details.

Harley entered the interrogation room with a polite little cough that didn't match the stern gaze she gave Greg. Joker soon learnt why he was in a bad mood as the guard was ordered to undo the top restraints and take off both sets of cuffs. He stared at Quinzel in genuine surprise again.

"Told you I'd sort it out." She said playfully with a wink causing Joker to break into his wide grin that always unsettled people around him.

"So Harley has scout's honour." He purred making sure to look as praising as possible as he watched her sit down across from him while rubbing at his wrists. She beamed with pride, it was sickening. Rolling his eyes he barely even finished his snarl before he'd shot forward, grabbing her wrist now that he was free.

She gasped in alarm; Greg stepped forward and started shouting at him while blank slate aimed his rifle. Her warm skin became rigid under his touch but she held her pen in her other hand tightly almost as if she were bracing herself to stab him. Good instincts.

Satisfied that he had startled her he sat back, sparing a hostile glance for Greg briefly before breaking out in his signature laugh. Greg seemed tempted to shoot him. He wanted to dare him for a brief second but was distracted.

"It's okay, he's just playing." Harleen soothed, trying discreetly to get the guards to back down, gazing at them with warning in her eyes. Joker sneered in annoyance but got an impatient eyebrow in response. "If you keep this up they won't let me have you unrestrained." She advised. Joker's sneer turned to disgust. What was this pathetic, obedient thing?

"I don't know what my file says doll face but I hope you know I don't exactly stop doing what I want because people said 'no'." He explained. His tone was warning and predatory. A flash of something went through her eyes; was that admiration? A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Did she want to be a bad little girl?

"You must have played by the rules once. If you didn't I'd have a bigger file on you." Was that a joke? Was she playing with him? Ha! Oh, this was precious. Don't play with the big boys darling.

"Was that your segue into asking about my past doc?" He taunted back. He expected she'd look guilty at being caught out but instead she shrugged her shoulders in a 'worth a shot' way that was thick with nonchalance.

"Your skin is very cold. Do you need an extra jacket?" She observed rubbing at her wrist that was still a little red from how hard he had gripped her. It might bruise.

"A straight one perhaps." He said with a grin inciting a small giggle from her.

"Has it been like that since whatever bleached your skin?" She asked not letting him derail their conversation this time. He kept a passive mask on as a flare of annoyance shot through him. These damn shrinks always wanted the same answers. This would be where he'd turn it all around, drag out her deep, dark secrets like the others so he could tear it all apart and smash it back together again. But he might need her adoration.

The unfortunate part about feigning an emotion when your mind is a boiling pot of insanity is that sometimes you start feeling it or at least your train of thoughts decide to abandon your carefully laid out intentions and follow the wrong track. So when he tried to look like he was seriously considering her question he started to actually do so. Had his skin always been this cold? Maybe. Memories bubbled up like the vat of acid but before he could concentrate on them they popped. Some were nightmares of a batlike beast hunting him down confirming that of these recollections, some were fake. Which were the real ones, which weren't? Different names and words danced across his mind like butterflies.

The acid had burned. Then it had itched. Then itched and burned. It had been excruciating. But he guessed that happened when your skin peeled away to reveal something new. Choking on it was worse. Sometimes his lungs still felt like they were on the verge of collapse.

He was staring at his hand like it wasn't his own. Turning it this way and that. She had expected him to deflect, felt cautious because he hadn't. But that was drowned out by anticipation when those cold eyes flicked up to meet hers from below his lashes. He was hiding it but he was annoyed. She tried to appear open and friendly, smiling pleasantly when their gazes met.

It helped him come to a decision as, slowly so Greg didn't freak out, he held out the hand he had grabbed her with. A silent offer. He watched her closely; she was like a cautious deer, carefully taking the bait. Her soft fingers ran over his skin searching for warmth. Searching for a smudge of make-up maybe. When her hand obstructed the guards' view he made sure to carefully stroke her wrist with one of his fingers like he was apologising. A blush rose to her cheeks telling him he was successful and she pulled back with an awkward laugh. He smiled to her in what he thought might be a charming way though he wanted to split his face into one of those manic grins to declare triumph. He couldn't wait for the punchline for this one.

"Because you're such a _nice_ doctor…I'll let you know that as far as I remember, my skin has always been cold." He advised her cautiously eyeing the men in the room. If he worked slow enough, tantalising her, he could convince her to request their guards not attend. Something that would make this so much easier. Her eyes lit up in triumph, not even a hint of doubt at why she had gotten information so easily when all the others had failed. Didn't even consider if she was being lied to, though he was a master liar. Always a little truth sprinkled on top. That made for the best lie cake.

"So you don't recall some of your past?" She questioned. A shock of irritation went through him but he was also amused at her terrier behaviour. Ohhh, she could smell blood.

Joker exaggerated a playful response of 'caught you out for tricking me' letting his manic grin take over. She didn't even notice the desire to kill in his eyes. What a horrible supporting cast.

"Oh Harley, Harley, Harley. You've gotta buy me dinner first before I spill my intimate secrets during pillow talk." He teased earning that blush again. She swept some of her blonde hair behind her ear and side eyed their guards. There we go; he'd planted the seed for privacy. Now he'd just have to nurture it.

Joker was evasive for the rest of the session but when she reported to Arkham that she had learned he had some form of amnesia Harleen was filled with pride. She had learned more from the man in two sessions than her colleagues combined, though that wasn't saying much. But it was a start and a promising future.

* * *

((A/N: Thanks ImAOlicitySuperFan for the review. I'll try not to take too long between updates. n_n

This was a fun chapter to write. I don't know if I'm doing the Joker justice but I really enjoy trying to get into his head. He's a very interesting character and has been my favourite DC villain for the longest time. It's tricky to try and find the correct balance of someone so chaotic but I've always felt that there's a very calculative mind behind the 'insanity'. Like, he always has several plans in motion and he might not even use any of them as he follows his whim. I hope I did him justice. I also hope I'm doing Harleen justice.

Per usual, constructive criticism is cherished.))


	3. Chapter 3 - Bad Day

Chapter 3 – Bad Day

Harleen adjusted her skirt as she prepared for her ten thirty session. The highlight of each week. Today was the first day they'd hold it in her therapy room. She'd worked hard for that one but after three months of slow information and no incidents during their sessions, working her way to sitting in a room with guards and Joker unbound, she'd managed to coerce Arkham to allow it. The guards would still be posted outside her room, a panic button within reach to put it on lockdown should he do anything. But it was the only way to get him to open up. He hated that room they'd started in. The one he called the 'interrogation room'. And really, he had a point.

She'd learnt things here and there. The first kill he'd made that he remembered at least; someone who had screamed at his deranged appearance. How he felt about 'The Bat'; that particular interest bordered on obsession. That he made up the explosives and gun use as he went along confessing that the rumours were wrong about his military experience and considering the number of times he'd accidentally fired off a round he was astounded people thought otherwise. His exaggerated offence had put her in fits of giggles.

What Arkham didn't know is she'd paid for these titbits of information in a way no doctor ever should. But Joker told her she was fascinating. That he wanted to know more about her. She saw the sweet talking a mile away but was still flattered.

He had been genuinely surprised when she told him how she'd become a psychiatrist after her own doctor had helped her. Then he'd asked about her parents. He'd been silent for a long time after that like he was digesting. She wanted to ask him about it but that ran a little too off topic. And she was already worried about the guards telling Arkham.

Shaking off her apprehension she took one last look around her room. They'd removed nearly everything that could be used as a weapon but she insisted on keeping some personalisation. A bowl of candy on her desk in one corner, a pile of plushies near the couch she let her patients stretch out on. She hoped he liked it.

She sucked in a breath when the door opened. The guards escorted a cuffed Mr J inside who took a cursory glance around the room. The one who was always the first to point his gun at Joker raised an eyebrow at Harleen as if asking for confirmation. She could almost hear the thought of 'your funeral' when she bobbed her head insistently. He did as he was told and unlocked the handcuffs after the ones on Joker's ankles. A look of something flashed in the Clown Prince's eyes but whatever it was he suppressed it and watched stoically as the guards left the room and locked the door behind them.

When they were gone he turned to her, arms open theatrically and a fond smile in place like he was greeting an old friend. Harleen rose from her chair perhaps a little too quickly to cross the room and take one of his hands in a firm shake, almost going in for a hug but stopping herself.

"Harley! This feels so…appropriate." He complimented but something in his tone suggested it was an insult. Harleen's eager smile faltered as she glanced around the room wondering what she needed to change. She attempted to brush it off as she reached for the two cups on her desk before escorting him to the lounge. It was high and plush. Joker delighted in bouncing onto it a few times trying to ignore the plastic she offered him.

"Mr J." She insisted earning rolled eyes and a grunt that basically said 'fine, if I have to'. He took the cup, offered a cheers as he clapped it to the one she held for herself and they both took their medication. It had been an idea of hers after Arkham had complained no one was really able to get him to take his pills without risk of injury. Since Joker knew about her treatment she'd suggested taking them together.

Harleen didn't want to broach electroshock therapy, not yet though it was something she had discussed with Arkham. While Joker was always very pleasant with her, avoiding anymore playful yanking of her arms, he had proven violent to others. The guard who had brought him breakfast about a month ago still complained of pain in the fingers he had broken. That had delayed her requests for a private session significantly.

"So many cats." Joker commented as he looked over the pile of soft toys. Harley missed the slight derision in his tone, gushing over how adorable kitties were. She didn't even notice the way he looked at her for it.

"Harley..." He said her name as a long sigh, a 'what am I to do with you' sigh that made her stomach flutter. "You are so…_adorable_." He confessed inciting that red tinge on her cheeks. No matter how many times she spent in front of the mirror telling herself she wouldn't blush today, she always did. He did it deliberately too. Like he enjoyed it. That made it worse.

"Would you like to continue from our last session Mr J?" She asked cautiously to change the subject. She'd been on the verge of some sort of breakthrough. He'd mentioned wanting to do stand up. A whiff of a past.

"How about we do you first? You don't mind if I do you?" Joker retorted making himself comfortable on her couch. Rain began to hit the windows distracting him for a moment as he realised there was a chance at freedom here. Did he risk it? Did he run for it and see how things turned out? Chaos was in his nature after all. He was beginning to think Harley would bounce back if he did; she always seemed to bounce back when he hurt her with his words. It was a very odd trait he was exploring carefully.

Harleen of course blushed at the innuendo and did that thing where she dusted her hair behind her ears. He hated it; it made him want to roll his eyes. But doing that would let her onto his secret so he decided to watch her hands closely like they fascinated him.

"Where were we? Ah! That's right! Your father had just killed your mother." Harleen didn't even know she'd been played.

She was interrupted three times by the guards informing the hour and that the session was meant to finish. Eventually she told them she was extending it and to advise staff she wouldn't be treating her other patients today. Whispers of being on the verge of a breakthrough were greatly exaggerated.

Instead she was the one telling _him_ her life story. He had asked her very particular questions about her mother's death. Ones that had unsettled her. What had her screams sounded like? How long was her father still beating her before he realised she was dead? He'd greatly enjoyed her tale of her father, covered in blood, sweeping her into his arms and fleeing. They'd been found five days later on the run.

Joker had expressed wanting to meet the man, interrupting her stories about living with her aunt. Harley had gone quiet then, something that he bit into relentlessly until she confessed that he was dead too. He'd been placed on executioner's row after the number of people, and guards, he'd killed in the riot that had broken out on her first visit. She'd only been allowed to visit him three more times before she watched them inject him with toxins.

"So that's why you fight so hard for the Asylum." Joker observed. Harleen realised she had been crying and wiped at her eyes. It was getting dark but she loved talking to him so much she hadn't even turned the light on. She was glad for it now. How pathetic must he think she was?

"Well, I believe we've made a great breakthrough today Miss Quinzel!" He declared, moving to sit up like they were done. She could hear the glee in the role reversal. It reminded her why she was here and her jaw set stubbornly.

"Your turn." Her tone brooked no argument, squaring her shoulders when he sighed long and hard in a 'worth a shot' statement.

"Didn't realise we were playing 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours'." He complained while lying back down.

He could lie. Any old sob story would do. The idiot was eating out of his hand most days. Just put on his best act and go. But he found as he told the story that elements, sometimes opposing though she didn't notice, came from the flickers of potential memories he had left from the before.

And boy did she eat it up. Even in the darkness, the little beam of light through the blinds showed him enough to confirm she fell for him with every word. Her compassion was sickening but also entertaining. He had long determined his efforts to contact his crew were fruitless. She was his escape, her trust was the key. He was rather certain her loyalty was all but cemented.

"So little Miss Harley Quin. That was my very bad day." He concluded, sitting up in the darkness. At some point he'd removed his shirt. Why hadn't she noticed that? Now she did as the light coming through the blinds illuminated strips of white flesh like a pedestrian crossing.

"That acid must have been painful." The words came out a whisper. This poor, tortured man in front of her, this man _she_ was destined to fix.

"Yes…well, at least my skin's numb to it now." He confessed trying to light his eyes in a playful way but it was half-hearted. So that was how he could withstand all the beatings he received from Batman. His nerve endings were damaged. "But some things I can still feel…strongly." The words were purred from his mouth while he held out his hand to her. A little too eagerly she took it in a firm grip so he could feel anything. His fingers dusted across her wrist.

Harleen knew what he was doing, that should have helped her resist it. But it didn't. This brilliant, terrible, amusing, sad man just needed someone to love him. To fix him. She could do it, she _knew_ she could. She just had to reach down and pull him out of the darkness if he would just let it go.

Realising she'd held his hand a little too long she pulled back trying to ignore the way he watched her. She felt like a lamb again from that look. Like he was about to pounce.

"Oh my. It's gotten really late. I think we better finish up here for today." It was a weak withdrawal. He was trying to look affectionate still but there was that slight sneer on his face he got sometimes. The one that made her feel like she'd disappointed him. She hated it. But at least today she had had a major breakthrough. When she gave Arkham her report he would surely approve of more private sessions.

* * *

Joker sat on his little cloud. He'd polished off half of her candy bowl as he told random stories, praising her for helping him unlock his memories in their past sessions. So many since her 'breakthrough'. He joked, she laughed, he smiled like he adored it. She let him sneak out with some of her toys, she sneaked him treats. They played a game of cards. Then he'd regale her with more tales to show just how much he trusted her. He got a little lost in the act greatly exaggerating some details. When he left here he needed to give Bats a present. One had to properly thank a friend for putting them up for such a long time.

"You said your name was Jack." Harleen's voice interrupted his story breaking him from his distracted thoughts. Joker staggered in his chair wondering why the details really mattered. But then he noticed the look in her eyes. She was hurt. What had he said that hurt her? Surely something more than a different name, she wasn't very good at noticing the contradictions in his stories anyway.

"Well…I guess my memory is still fuzzy after all. Can't tell what's true and what's not." He excused. Of course he did, it was an easy scapegoat and that fuelled the anger sinking in her stomach. She'd spent the morning with Arkham discussing his first electroshock therapy. Dr Crane, who was very pissed at the fact Harleen had lasted so long with the Clown Prince, someone he was eager to treat, had dismissed the progress everyone was praising her for. He'd gone on to say that the Joker was playing her for a fool. This had raised doubts with Jeremiah though he still thought the therapy should go ahead. She shouldn't have let him get to her but she'd started this session watching more keenly for the ways he deliberately acted; the flirting, the aloof praise.

So what if he did? So what if he was lying? He still treated her different. There was some truth to it, there _was_.

"Doc, what's with the frown on your pretty little face?" Mr J asked, leaning forward in his seat. He ran his cold hand through the green of his hair. It was a habit she'd noticed. He usually did it when he was thinking, scheming at his fastest.

"The higher dose of medication hasn't worked." She commented checking her notes. She was referring to blank slate. Fair. It had just been so hard to resist the idiot giving him the perfect opportunity to shove the keys into his neck. He wondered if the kid could still talk. But Joker _hated_ that she was ignoring his question. Something had happened, something had changed. She was in a bad mood today. Was someone interrupting his work? Someone had. He needed to send them a present. A nice bullet perhaps.

"Dr Arkham and I have decided to begin a new treatment with you. To help with the psychosis." Oh, no, no, no. He knew where this was heading. He was putting a stopper on this. He wasn't going on higher doses to the point he was a drooling pool of nothing.

"Harley." He said her name in that best friend's tone. But her guard was up. Okay, this person who had undone his work was getting several bullets. Perhaps for their family first.

"This afternoon we'll commence your first electroshock therapy session." She didn't even look at him as she said it. The coward. If you're going to torture someone wear it with pride. A sneer formed on his face, the façade abandoned once he realised it was much worse than pills.

"Surely we could try something else Dr Quin-zel? I mean, flossing my brain seems a bit extreme. I thought we were going so well?" He asked. Using her impersonal title caused her anger to falter. There was that look in her eyes, the one that always silently asked for forgiveness when she'd disappointed him. But offence seemed to have a tighter hold on her. He sneered, sitting up properly. "Harley, come on." He changed tact trying to appear sweet. But she didn't change her mind.

A shock of rage flashed through him. He had just enough self control to aim the bowl beside her head instead of at it when he threw it. He couldn't risk her changing her mind on him because he'd smashed her face. It crashed into the wall behind her and she jumped but still she remained stern even when he swept up to stand over her in intimidation. The door to her office swung open revealing that hidden discreetly in her hand was a panic button. Greg stood there with the new guy who now aimed a shotgun at him. A shotgun, of all things? What kind of madhouse was this? They were ready for the zombies to attack.

Oh, this good little girl. This little tart. A spoiled princess he had denied and now she was throwing her tantrum. He tried to plead, to appeal to her sympathy but his act fell on a deaf audience even three hours later when he was strapped to a table in a laboratory. Her little lab rat. She was the one who administered the muscle relaxant. She'd pay for that.

All thoughts of revenge vanished when the first volts went through his skull. His memories or sort of memories flashed up in front of him. Some went up in flames, the ones he suspected might have been real, had he suspected that? They were twisted too. Which ones were they? The ones with the bat were worse than ever, some monstrosity from a horror movie staring back at him with glowing eyes. He laughed at the demon though; there was something funny about it.

Bright red blooms. She'd said that. The red roses that spread on people's chests when you shot them or punched them long enough. Black and blue. Black and blue. Bruises spreading. Then she was there. That woman, that insufferable woman. Oh, he'd get to her. When he'd burned this castle to the ground. But she was so pretty. She danced in front of him through a deck of cards. The suits complimented her well, the red and black. Diamonds, spades, aces, hearts. And he was the Joker to complete the set. The main card, the trump. The one that won the game.

When the relaxant wore off he was back in his cell. His memories from after the treatment played back to him in the wrong order, some of the words muted. Laughter, maybe his, maybe someone else's. The look of guilt on her pretty little face. Regret. Pleading for forgiveness. She didn't have to plead. She'd given him a present. He'd return the favour one day.

* * *

It was their first session since his therapy. The reports had said he'd been docile in the days following. The guards had barely needed to monitor him. Arkham was pleased. She still remembered the look he'd shot her afterwards. She'd done something horrible.

Then she had gone home and she'd cried. She'd begged her father to come hold her but he wasn't there. So she'd curled into a ball and wept on the floor alone. She was helping him, she was; she _was_. It was a perfectly safe medical procedure. It would help him. Help him distinguish what was real and what was not.

She tried to use that as her armour as the clock ticked down to his arrival but dread still sunk her stomach. The first thing she noticed was the vacant stare when the guards brought him in. Head of security had wanted this to be a monitored session just as a precaution. She'd insisted that it needed to be kept private. She had to make up for what she had done. His head lolled around his shoulders as he watched the guards leave from the corners of his eyes. He didn't take a seat. There was something intimidating about his vacant expression. Something that had her on edge, her fingers twitching for her panic button.

"How are you feeling?" She asked. A dark look crossed his eyes. He didn't smile.

"Shocking." He answered but there was no laughter in his joke and she wouldn't dare. Of course she wouldn't. She knew what she'd done. The little bitch. His anger got the best of him and with a startled shriek from her, he launched forward, knocking her to the ground, slapping her little alarm out of her hand and clenching hard around her throat.

"J, you're hurting me." She gasped out struggling fruitlessly against his arms. Vaguely through his anger he heard the shouts of the guards asking if she was alright after crying out. Oh, no. He wasn't hurting her. Not yet. His fingers dug deeper. Some rational part of his brain tried to warn him that he still needed her. His rage wanted to pay her back here and now but she was his key. Couldn't break the key before you used it, especially when the lock smith wasn't answering his calls.

Joker growled in irritation, not because the guards had finally entered and were warning him to get off of her but because he was sick of this game. The punchline took too long. But he had to work with what was available to him. Before he could be pulled away from her he leaned in close, trying to look apologetic as his face brushed close enough to hers that she could feel his breath.

Then he was pulled back. He vented his frustrations, delighting in the sound when he broke Greg's arm. More guards arrived and then with his signature cackle he was dragged back to his cell.

The next few hours went by as a blur to Harleen. Her vision had swam, noises muffled by the sound of her own blood pulsing in her ears. Black spots danced, twirling like gowns at a ball. She tried not to cry, she couldn't do it. If she showed weakness, if they thought she wasn't up to the task things would go wrong. So very, very wrong. She couldn't have a very bad day. She just couldn't. She gasped in a breath that hurt when medical arrived. They helped her walk to a different room where they could tend to her wounds. But she didn't need to respond to them; there was only one person she needed to make sure she spoke to.

"Are you okay Harleen?" Arkham asked after she had been checked over and treated for minor bruising.

"Yes, I'm fine." She brushed off. She had to work fast to make sure this didn't set her back.

"I think it's time I reassigned-"

"No! No! It's okay. He was just upset because of the therapy. I've made so much progress." Harley interrupted. She couldn't lose him, not now. Screw her damn book. The way he'd looked at her after. The way he'd leaned in; he'd been going to kiss her, he had. Her father loved her mother. He beat her. Joker was just damaged like him. That was all. If she could fix him he'd be fine like her father could have been given the chance. Then she could tell him, tell him she loved him back.

Because she did. He was funny, smart, and handsome in his odd way. And he treated her special. Even the men she played for fools hadn't looked at her the way he did. She was just another thing to them but to him. To him she was something. And maybe part of that was an act but there was something _real_ there.

Jeremiah looked at her apprehensively. He still wanted to take her off the case. She could see it. She squared her shoulders and tilted up her chin stubbornly. She wasn't leaving this room until it was confirmed she was keeping the Joker. He was her patient. He was _hers_ dammit.

"…okay." Arkham conceded after what felt like an eternity. "But he's going in a straight jacket now and it's being held back in a max security room again." She nodded her head eagerly, bowing to any request just as long as she still got to see the Joker. It was destiny. She couldn't let it change over trivial matters. She had to make it up to him.

* * *

((A/N: Thanks for those few that are reading. Sorry for the delay.

I've got some nice easter eggs for other incarnations of the Joker in this one just for fun. I hope that Harleen's adoration of Joker feels like a natural shift as I tread the beginnings of unhealthy obsession. I feel like I may have been a little OOC with Joker pleading prior to the electroshock therapy. Hopefully it's not so bad as to throw people off.

Thanks again to anyone reading and once again: constructive criticism is cherished.))


	4. Chapter 4 - Live for These Moments

Chapter 4 – Live for These Moments

He was trying to work out how much he had screwed up his hard work. His weekly session rolled around but he wasn't taken to Harleen's office. Back to the interrogation room he went, flanked by his escorts. Two new guys who didn't talk to him at all. Didn't even look at him when he asked about Greg. How boring.

Not to mention he'd gotten his extra jacket. Irritably he was more restrained than ever. Strapped in his chair, arms bound around him. Shit. All that work for nothing. All work and no play made Joker an angry man. He growled under his breath but then the door opened and he became genuinely surprised.

Harleen looked back to him with submissive, terrified eyes. But it didn't look like the fear of someone expecting to be hurt, not even with the fading bruising that made a black and purple necklace around her throat. If he was right, it looked like the fear of someone who was apologetic and not expecting forgiveness. Someone who was afraid of doing the wrong thing again. Curious.

He watched her with interest as she took a seat opposite him. The guards didn't leave the room but he doubted she'd get away with that for some time after his latest outburst. Harley took a moment shuffling her notes, stalling. Like she wasn't allowed to be the one to speak first. A smile broke across his face.

"How are you feeling Harley?" He began ghosting her greeting from a week ago. She swallowed as if self-conscious of her necklace.

"I'm good. And you?" She responded. It was so droll but he feigned his interest. Tried his best to look apologetic.

"Delighted. I thought my play dates with my favourite person were cancelled after I got a little too…overzealous with her." He confessed with a pout. She almost reached out for his hand, stopping probably more because it was tied to him than a realisation that she shouldn't be that vulnerable. Especially not in front of company.

"And your memories of your past?" She pressed on doing the good doctor routine. He didn't manage to suppress the snarl on his face. Though he was meant to focus on his act, since apparently it wasn't over, his mind tried to drag something up from before the vat of acid. There were a few flashes but mostly just a black pit of nothing. "Are any of them clearer now?"

He let her question hang in the air. If she was going to bounce back from a physical hit she could bounce back from aggravating him with stupid questions. She nodded awkwardly and scribbled something down. Hopefully a note saying to damn well cancel any further shock therapy. As fun as a little pain could be he'd rather avoid more torture sessions.

Though he had no concept of time inside the castle he felt their talk went shorter than usual. Probably a precaution. But when she stood up to leave, cautiously watching him through her lashes looking for some sign of what he guessed she expected he smiled. Not his manic smile, not his teasing one, not his amused one. Something small and almost affectionate. Her lips parted, he could nearly hear the little idiot shouting in triumph inside her own skull. She _had_ been right! He _had_ gone to kiss her! What a fool. Ah well, that was what made her useful. Something about gift horses. A flickering memory of a woman. How big was that black hole now?

There was hope. Bittersweet though it was, she now knew she had some chance at redemption. She latched onto it with both hands and refused to let go. She wrote whatever she had to, making sure it seemed like she was making progress with him and he did his best to aid her. He'd become docile, obedient. When she doubted he'd smile at her in that way, that special smile just for her. The one that said alright, I'll keep up this act for you darling. And so she reached deeper into the dark pit he was in, extending her hand to help him. To prove she was there for him. Begging to be let in for real. She could fix him. Crawling further and further down. She didn't even notice how much he liked the dark.

* * *

He sat in his chair like a good little patient, wrapped up like a present. They'd had four weeks of private sessions again. They'd been in that droll interrogation chamber but at least the guards had been moved outside during the third or fourth session, he couldn't remember and it didn't matter. He'd wanted the privacy. She slipped up more and more these days. Showing her hand. Really, you never showed your hand, especially not to a known cheater. She was even going to help him pull the card out of his sleeve for the winning move though she didn't know it yet.

He played her like an expert musician, smiling when he had to, showing his disappointment to draw her further in. He'd call her Harley to soothe her and flit back to the impersonal Dr Quinzel when he wanted more from her than she was willing to give. The music was beautiful.

Today they'd been moved again. This wasn't her private office though her name was on the door. Somehow she'd convinced that idiot Jerry to give her a personal interrogation room. He wondered how strong her self-denial had to be to allow him to play the same games with her she played with her superior. She hadn't managed to get him to lose the straight jacket but at least he got to sit in a normal chair without straps. He guessed bondage wasn't her thing. Or maybe it was. Who knows?

There was the click clack of her heels, the singing of an iron door. That bright, innocent, naïve smile spread on her face as she sat across from him and checked that the guards remained outside. Good, he wanted privacy today. Today was the day. The day he found out just how devoted she had become. He had to start off with the bait.

"Doc-tor Quin-zel." Joker began playing with her name as always. There was some doubt on her face as she reached for something bulging in her medical pocket, a question of 'what have I done wrong, why not Harley?' faltering behind her smile. "I live for these moments with you." She laughed. It was a small one somewhere between cautious awareness that she was being flattered and the young schoolgirl who didn't care. The smile showing off those pearly whites told him which one was more triumphant as she went back to her pocket.

"What have you got?" Joker asked with a vague smile. It fell when one of her little toys emerged from her pocket.

"I got you a kitty." She confessed with that childlike smile. Waving its little paw at him, a hint of doubt in her eyes at his expression, quickly focusing on the cat as if to avoid his disappointment. He kept his face neutral while he leaned forward, inspecting the toy and then Harleen, extending her discomfort.

"So thoughtful." He complimented and her uneasiness dispersed. He hadn't even tried to sound sincere but she ate it up anyway. He sat back again. Her smile fell, the question of why was he moving away from her plain on her face. He struggled not to laugh. He hadn't even got to the good part yet and she was already insane.

Harleen managed to realise she needed to compose herself turning back to that wretched file. That would have to burn. Maybe he could do it in front of her.

"Mr J, you know how last week we talked about your stand up." She began clearly seguing into some sort of psychiatric introspection on how that influenced his 'character'. He didn't give her the time of day. He was ready for the final act.

"Have you ever been in love, Harley." Joker asked keeping his face neutral. She had been smiling, trying to look friendly but her face fell. She needed some tell, some sign to give away his intentions; was he about to confess? Did he want her to confess? Yes. The answer was yes, she loved him back. He leaned forward conspiratorially. "What am I saying, of course you have. A pretty thing like you." She laughed a little at the compliment, brushing her hair behind her ear and staring at her notes. She imagined leaning forward, confessing everything to him, kissing those beautiful red lips. Maybe she did lean forward. She needed her medication.

"I always thought that when you loved someone you'd do anything for them." Joker continued not waiting for her input. She let him lead the way, fixated on every word. A ghost of a story came back to her about a man doing something for love. She didn't know if it was real. She was fairly certain he didn't know if it was real. But he'd told her nonetheless, that meant something. That did.

"Is there something you would do for the person you love-I mean loved?" Harleen asked unable to help herself. What would he do for the cherished significant other? She needed to know. Every fibre of her being wanted to know. He sat back again, keen eyes assessing her.

"Oh, who knows? We'll never find out pretty Harley, I'm trapped in here. But the company ain't so bad." He teased causing her to laugh again. She looked down shyly and brushed her hair behind her ear; that stupid, annoying gesture. Neat and orderly. He _hated_ it. Let the chaos grow! But he kept his mask passive. He couldn't risk slipping up again. Not over hair.

"There is something you can do for me, doctor." He whispered wiggling forward again like a hypnotising, venomous snake. He kept his eyes fixated on her. She needed to think she was his whole world. The subtle affirmation of love was just enough to tip her over the edge.

"Anything-I mean. Yeah." Jackpot. The slip up, the shake of her head, the use of 'anything'. She was his to control. He lost his playful swagger and looked at her straight making sure she understood he was dead serious and also not betraying his delighted triumph.

"I need a machine gun." She stared blankly back at him as he dropped the words like a bomb. When she tilted her head back as if to question she had heard right he bobbed his head down, pressing on the request.

"A machine gun?" She repeated with a nod. She didn't want to say no, she couldn't say no. He wasn't meant to give the game away but couldn't help breaking into a wide smile, a breathy laugh slipping out. But he played it into his act.

"You're just _so_…ugh. Adorable." He said with a squeak to his voice that implied he was overwhelmed by his infatuation. Really he was overwhelmed by his amusement. After all of Jerry's, the old boy, efforts to keep him away from any of his thugs he now had the best ally in the Asylum. Though it was also a teensy bit of disgust at how gullible she was.

"I wouldn't even know…" She began but one look of disappointment and she ate the rest of her words.

"No, of course not! A good little girl like you." He began trying not to show his true opinion on that in his smile. "But I have a friend who would help you. Now I'll admit. I'm not entirely sure how long my holiday has gone on for but knowing my good ol' pals out there, they would have been stealing my stuff and taking my turf the morning I broke my usual liberty routine." Joker didn't give her a chance to question her decision, for she really had made it though he still hadn't heard the word yes.

"So that means you're going to need to go to a bar. Beautiful place. We should have a drink there when I'm free." He nodded his head sincerely at this, thinking of all the roaches and the lack of patrons except his most loyal followers. A ramshackle building with all the charm Gotham had to offer. He made sure she repeated exactly where to go to get to it noticing that she began to nod her head with his. Oh, pretty little Harley. She'd fallen in the deep, dark pit and hadn't even noticed.

"When you get there some friendly men are going to approach you. Tell them you're looking for some treatment to some frost bite and they'll help you out with my request." Joker concluded. There was self doubt in Harleen's eyes but all he needed to do was flash a smile, lean forward again and let her imagination run wild. She was in. Soon, soon the act would be done.

* * *

The area was worse, if that was even possible, than the rest of Gotham. The kind of place people went missing and there was never a trace of them again. Her nerves were through the roof but she had to do this. She pretended she was on the streets with her father. They'd gone to similar places, especially when he was on the run. No one had stopped them. Little princess with the monster father.

There was the bar. She'd expected something grander but that was the point. If this was a safe house to fall back to when the shit hit the fan it had to be unassuming. She took a slow breath to brace herself and then Harleen was exiting the car and heading for the door with the fading paint. She was dressed in jeans, low heeled boots and a tee. No point in dolling herself up. There was only one man she wanted to do that for now and if he needed her charms, it wasn't for this. Some semblance of rational thought had decided she needed to be ready to fight.

There were five men when she entered but she noticed three more emerged as all eyes went to her. Various looks passed over them. Sneers, curiosity, amusement, some she didn't want to analyse. There was an older gentleman in black and white at the bar shotting something; he decided that he'd be the first to approach.

"You've wandered into the wrong place darling." He warned as if giving her a chance to flee. Her heart fluttered in fear but she couldn't let it win. She couldn't disappoint Mr J. Not again. Squaring her shoulders and trying to find her stubborn streak she looked him in the eye. Her confidence faltered. What was it she was meant to say? Freeze? Frost? Frost bite!

"I'm…I'm looking f-for frost bite." Shit, that wasn't it. Her heart beat hard against her chest and she heard a few chuckles but the man in front of her seemed to catch on to what she meant. He nodded his head to the left, a silent indication telling her to follow him. Against her better judgement she did.

The building was more an old saloon that had somehow survived modernisation. There were little hints that this was a place the Joker called occasional home. A set of chattering teeth, a red ball. Then she was taken out back. Guns and gold glittered around her like trophies. Sitting at a table with floor plans that she easily identified as Arkham Asylum was a middle aged man in a suit. He glanced up from his plotting to raise a curious eyebrow at the older gentleman that had brought her here.

"She came looking for some 'frost bite'. It's not his exact phrase but I think the little miss is a bit nervous." The thug explained. Surprise showed in the stranger's eyes and he looked back to Harleen. She swallowed not knowing where to start though she could gather from what they said that this was a contingency plan. How many options did the Joker leave himself?

"So you work at the Asylum." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. The man straightened, looking her over as if assessing how best to use her.

"I'm Mr J's therapist." She explained earning a few derisive laughs from the others. But the man in front of her just nodded his head. "He wants a machine gun. He said you'd be able to help me get one to him."

He didn't even question her why she wanted to help. He immediately picked her brain for all the information that his map didn't tell him, formulating a plan to fulfil the Joker's request. She learnt over the next hour or so as he explained the steps to her that his name was Jonny Frost. He was Joker's right hand man, the one he trusted to get things done for him. She also learnt they'd tried to discreetly get in to get their boss man out but had so far been unsuccessful. For the last month or so they'd been gathering munitions to just storm the place though they'd been cautious about it because without knowing where Joker was they'd have limited time before back up or worse, Batman came to deal with the Asylum on lockdown. But now they finally had their inside man or woman as it were.

Self-doubt needled at Harleen. But it was too late now. It was all in from the minute she'd stepped into that bar, maybe even before. She thought she'd feel guilt or regret. But she didn't. She just felt this endless craving to prove herself to Mr J.

* * *

She kept in touch with Frost over the following week until her next session with Joker came around. Harleen arrived at Arkham Asylum far earlier than usual; when the night shift workers were finishing up and dazed from their lack of sleep. With a quick check to make sure no one was watching she hopped out of her car with Frost in tow. He was dressed in the security uniform, a machine gun in his hand. They played it like she'd run into him patrolling the perimeter. Her chest constricted almost painfully when they entered the building expecting one of the guards to notice, to stop them. But they didn't.

Then running into no one else, she brought Frost to her office. He would hide in there until Joker was moved to the high security therapy room at ten thirty. Every now and then she thought someone could tell, someone had noticed her odd behaviour. But then things would turn to business as usual. She made sure to grab Frost with her folder when the anointed hour finally came around.

"Harleen, what's going on?" Leslie's voice piqued up when Harley stalked the halls with her armed escort. Frost glanced at her from the corner of his eye as they turned to face the brunette who was looking at him with a slight frown. Just walk away, please. Pretty, pretty, please.

"New precaution. Extra security for my session with Joker. He…he threatened me last week." Harley quickly excused pleading with her eyes for her sort of friend to believe her.

"…security with a machine gun?" The young woman asked incredulously. But it wasn't because of suspicion they came to learn. She was horrified at the extreme measures Arkham was taking for someone who had been so adamant that they were treating these poor, sick people. To avoid the type of brutality the police force was infamous for.

Harleen breathed a sigh of relief when they were able to move on. Frost was calm and silent beside her, focused. She tried to emulate that as they made their way towards high security. She thought she was ready.

But when they arrived and the two guards looked sceptically at the third armed member, reaching cautiously for radios she shrieked in alarm when Jonny shot them, flinching when blood splattered on her. Just red roses. Just red roses. She wiped away the petals.

Joker was already laughing when they came in. Was it his birthday? Oh, it had to be. There were fireworks, he'd heard them. He couldn't unwrap his presents though, his arms were tied. He laughed at his internal joke again as Frost came over and removed the extra jacket. It was so good to be free he leapt onto the table and almost did a jig.

"Oh Jonny boy! It's so good to see you! How are the kids?" He asked as he leapt back down. He hadn't even looked at Harleen yet but he could tell she was watching him in anticipation. He could hardly wait for the punchline.

"Unruly. A couple of them ran off." Frost replied. He was so damn good. It'd be a sad day the day he had to kill the man. He was the best at understanding what Joker meant.

"I'm sure you disciplined them properly in my place." He replied reaching into Frost's suit pocket and pulling out the zippo he knew was there. Then he turned to Harley. She stepped forward expectantly, a vague smile on her face and eager eyes.

"Dr Quinzel." He began. He didn't play with the name this time which added to the doubt, the hurt in her eyes, the endless questioning of what she had done. She didn't have a clue the little bitch. "That folder, please." It sounded like a request but anyone that knew him knew it was a demand. Slowly she brought it away from her chest, the treasured item that it was to her. She glanced at it cautiously but all he had to do was move to a sneer and then she fumbled trying to hand it over so quickly. It took longer to light than he would have liked but soon he relished in watching it burn, letting the flames lick at his fingers. He brought it up as it was nearly finished to watch Harley through the fire. Her dreams were burning with it; he could see the hurt in her eyes, restrained because she wanted to please him. It was disgusting.

There was a rumble from somewhere and he understood the rest of the gang had arrived. Soon there'd be the delightful sound of gunfire and screaming and he couldn't miss his own party. Not when they couldn't enjoy it for long. But there was one thing he had to do before they left.

As he dropped the last smouldering ruins he slowly stepped toward Harleen. Her head tilted up, her breath held. She was waiting for the kiss that affirmed she had done all this for the right man. That he loved her. He hovered unbearably close, just to tease her that little bit more. But right before their lips met he stepped to the side and grabbed the machine gun from Jonny's hands.

"Grab her. We've got a little task to complete on the way out." He growled to Frost heading out the door.

"What?" Harleen asked vaguely turning to watch him leave as whiplash scattered her brain. Then the other man had grabbed her painfully by the arm and began dragging her after the one she loved.

Her world fell to chaos with her mind. Explosions, gunfire. Co-workers screaming. She wasn't sure but she thought she saw Leslie's lifeless body, bruising around her neck from a patient that had been set free, revelling in the panic.

"Let go! Let go of me!" She shouted when she finally found enough composure to try and break out of Frost's grip. He wouldn't let go; she made it harder to drag her but then one of the other men came up and helped him as the masked soldiers fired on anyone and everyone. Someone had given Joker a bat and he'd lost his shirt, probably in offence at the straight-jacket. The security guard who had just stopped using his arm sling had his jaw broken as the madman cackled.

He led them to the medical wing. The patient that had been prepped for treatment ran to a corner and whimpered, a frightened doctor she didn't recognise in her own terror running to hide in the observation room. It was too late. Joker readied his bat, making some vague hand motion that signalled something to Frost.

Harleen felt herself being slammed down onto one of the chairs, laid flat like a bed and grunted in pain. Whatever he was planning she had to escape.

"Get off! Get off me!" She shrieked, kicking hard against Frost and the stranger not even hearing that long familiar sound. That meaty sound from the other room. Frost strapped her in.

"What do we have here?!" Joker declared more than asked in such a playful tone while his goons drew back away from his table. She saw him step into her line of sight but he was quickly obstructed by the light he pulled into her face. It wasn't as blindingly bright as usual. One of the explosions must have damaged something. Mr J leaned in next to it, mouth agape but it was the look in his eyes that scared her. There was something dead to that look. Something deep and dark. She'd barely scratched the surface hadn't she? Why hadn't he shown her more? Why was he keeping her out?

"I did everything you said." She bargained with her rational mind, her voice shaking in terror, breathy and soft. Begging for mercy. "I helped you." She reminded him. The smile, not the one she cherished, the one that put everyone on edge split his face in a snarling laugh.

"You helped me." He began almost sounding like he agreed with her. But waggling fingers with his next words betrayed this lie. "By erasing my mind, what. Few. Faded. Memories. I. Had." He began to pound the cushioning beside her head in frustration and emphasis of each word. Harleen closed her eyes to tears, to fear, her pleas for forgiveness. She knew she shouldn't have done it, she shouldn't. She was trying to help him. To fix him.

Joker ran a hand through his vibrant green hair like he was looking for patience. Leaning in close to her his next words were said like someone casually discussing world facts.

"No. You left me in a black hole of rage and confusion." He stared at her just a little bit longer than necessary before glancing towards his goons with a frown. Then flippantly he stepped back gesturing around the room for his performance. "Without the medicine you practice, Dr Quin-zel." Joker continued ripping at the single medical glove he'd pulled on at some point. But Harleen smiled. He'd played with her name again. Oh, he thought it was an act, he thought he'd played her. But he'd played himself. There _was_ something there. She could see it. She'd prove herself to him as many times as she needed to until he let her in.

"What are you gonna do, you're gonna kill me Mr J?" She said it just as playfully shaking her head. Because she knew he wouldn't. He _couldn't_ kill her.

"What?" He asked, glancing to his goons again, theatrics to pretend he hadn't heard. But she could see the disturbance in his gaze. There was an inane cackle. Maybe a flourish, some more theatrics. Then he held two familiar ends to a machine she recognised.

"Oh, I'm not gonna kill ya'." He promised but she watched him closely a look of admiration on her face. How crazy was this girl? "I'm just gonna hurt ya'. Really. Really. Bad." The perfect pauses to elevate his performance, the waving threat of the machine but she didn't care. He could see it in her eyes that watched only his face. Thoughts flushed through him, emotions. Annoyance, surprise, rage, disappointment, and something he might have even called respect. She'd impressed him.

"You think so? Well I can take it." She promised him. Joker sat back. Who was this little nutcase? What had he created? How much more could he push her? A part of him itched to find out. But no, he had to pay her back first. Then move onto bigger affairs. Deciding to reward her for coming out from behind that perfectly innocent little girl, letting a little of the monster out he reached for the leather strap. She wasn't getting muscle relaxants, no. She had a big debt to settle.

"I wouldn't want you to break those perfect, porcelain capped teeth when the juice hits your brain." He stroked her hair, kept up his performance hoping to scare her pressing his fingers to his own skull in a promise of pain. But still she smiled around the bit in her mouth.

Then electricity went through her mind. Up was down, left was right. The past ten minutes played themselves back to her but they jumped back and forth. There were more theatrics than she remembered, and bubblegum colours warped with the images. White noise backed by a laugh she adored. A memory of a kiss over a table. Her father helping her fly. Her father holding her mother's body, black and blue and red. He loved her. She loved Mr J. Daddy's little princess. Daddy's little princess. Daddy's little monster. She leaned in to kiss the man in the straight-jacket.

A final vision of the light. Now it was brighter. When did it get brighter? She couldn't see the room clearly anymore. It flared in pink. Joker stood behind it admiring his handy work, mouth agape. It curved into a smile. Her smile. The one he saved for her. Then the light went out.

Joker looked down at the now unconscious doctor in fascination. He chewed the idea; what was the best way to pay her back. Leave her here? Drag her around and torture her some more? End her miserable existence? He shrugged nonchalantly grabbing his bat on the way out. From the corner of his eye he saw Frost aim his gun at the pretty little doctor.

"Leave her. She has to live in her black pit." He warned shooting a dangerous look at his henchman. Frost stared back in surprise for only a split second. He'd learnt long ago you never questioned the Joker. You obediently followed every wanton order.

"I'll miss these moments, doc." Joker declared theatrically on his way out the door. But he frowned with the words. Something about them didn't feel as performed as he wanted it to. She deserved every ounce of resentment for what she'd done. This was a punishment, not mercy.

* * *

((A/N: Long delay is long.

I think I lost the flow a bit with this one but it was still fun to write. I really enjoy the change of Harley's...I guess 'inner voice' as she descends further and further. It only gets more fun from here. I like to think the Joker/Harley flashback scenes in Suicide Squad have fragments in their flickering that aren't actually real because they're a part of Harley's warped memories and I've tried to play into that here. I need to be careful writing out the scenes though; I think I bog it down too much trying to describe and tie in everything that's going on in the actual scenes to my fic. I'll try and work on that.

I'll try and update next time sooner though I am running out of prepared track. Anyway, thanks for reading and constructive criticism is cherished.))


	5. Chapter 5 - Garden of Red Roses

Chapter 5 – Garden of Red Roses

((A/N: Just want to place a trigger warning; this chapter has some dark things happen and implied death of children.))

Harleen's eyes were heavy. Like they'd been glued together. It was hard to open them so she let her mind wander. Where had she been? Where was she now? That's right. She'd completed her first shock therapy session. She could recall the minutes leading up to it, the minutes during the agony, maybe even the ones after. But they were incomplete and in the wrong order. Some scenes even played out two or three times in different ways. Her mind had been turned to pudding.

Pudding. Pudding. She liked that word. Where was her puddin'? Where was Mr J? Forcing her body to work she managed to pry apart her heavy eyes but immediately clenched them shut with a startled shout. Why was the world so bright? Like his vivid green hair. His pale, white skin.

"Miss Quinzel." A patient voice called softly from nearby. She heard someone enter her room and tried again. There was a nurse, not a psychiatric nurse though. This was a hospital. "It's good to see you're awake. I'll just get Dr Arkham. He's been waiting for you to wake up." The nurse explained.

When Jeremiah returned with her Harleen could see he had gone through hell. Covered in dust and bruises. Somehow he'd missed the massacre, disappearing under debris. There was something cold in his gaze.

"I thought you were making good progress Harleen." Arkham began his voice thick with accusation. She stared dumbly back at him trying to appear the innocent, ditzy blonde; gaping like a fish out of water. "Do you know how many staff members he killed on the way out?" The question was more a threat. No sympathy for her condition. She brought tears to her eyes. Were they real or were they an act? She tried to recall the escape but only saw pretty fireworks.

"I…understand he tortured you." Jeremiah began but there was no pity in his voice, no consideration for the fact that waiting for her to wake only to bite into her was unprofessional not to mention the effect it would have on her mental health. "But I'm afraid to say I have issued your termination and put in a request that your medical license be revoked."

The words were a bombshell. Harleen stopped seeing as he left the room. Her puddin' had left her, she'd lost her job, her friends. There was nothing left. She barely even comprehended the world around her in the days that followed. She was released, referred to a psychiatrist that she never saw and she went home.

Why had he left her behind? He loved her. He did….but then, then there was that look. That moment. The one where she realised he was so much deeper, darker. Things she hadn't begun to explore, things he hadn't let her. Of course he wouldn't. He trusted no one. But he could trust her. She would prove it to him. This was a test, it had to be.

Harleen stood up from the floor. She'd been crying. She had to make sure she looked nice but also ready to do what he asked. She put on her purple shirt and jeans, her boots. She would show him.

It was easy to find the bar again. It was different now, obvious that he was there. Bright lights now circled it; there was loud music, laughter. More people than last time. She strode in confidently.

He sat upstairs in a booth that overlooked the whole place. A preferred bird's eye view. Frost had brought him a few men, three of which were new players, ones that had heard of him and were ready to swear obedience. The fourth was a traitor. His lie cake was bad, drenched in the words that he was merely saving Joker's place when he took over parts of the Clown Prince's territory.

Joker wasn't here to broker deals with them though. They were going to learn that it was a good idea to ally themselves with the Clown Prince of Crime. Biding his time he started with jokes, his unsettling laugh that made them shift uncomfortably as he listed ideas on what he wanted to do for Batman. The masked vigilante had given him a wonderful stay in a nice little place; it would be rude not to send a gift basket in thanks.

There was a murmur down below that he casually glanced to then ignored. If it was too important Frost would bring whoever had surprised his goons. He turned back to Jimmy. Good ol' Jimmy who looked like he wanted to end the pleasantries and leave as soon as possible. With a snarl as he brought a loving arm around his ex-recruit's shoulders he prepared his next punchline only to be interrupted.

"Sir." Frost's voice beckoned making Joker look up irritably with a growl. Frost knew better however it would appear after being ordered to spare someone he wasn't sure what approach to take. Joker's surprise left his angry stare vacant. Standing beside his right hand man was one Harleen Quinzel. That cautious, adoring smile on her face, that look in her eyes that begged to be near him. What was this? He almost laughed. This idiot was still following him.

Her heart rose when he looked at her. Whether it was a sneer, that vacant stare where he hid his true intentions or amusement with that laugh that made everyone else shift in their seats, all of it was beautiful to her. As long as he was looking at her he could make any expression he wanted; she didn't care.

"Well Dr Quin-zel. I find your presence here a little…shocking." He said playfully with that wolfish smile. She grinned at his joke, giggling slightly and his face fell. Perhaps he had intended to intimidate her.

"Just Harley is fine. My license is probably getting revoked." She said calmly. She was the centre of attention. She liked that. She wanted more but more than that she wanted _him_ to look at her. He ran his hand through his emerald locks.

"Maybe it was a little early to release some of those patients. Jerry would have been quite right to after what they did." He teased baring those silver teeth as his eyes squinted like he was giving sincere advice. When she still didn't falter he lost his good mood for playing. What was wrong with her?

"So like a lost puppy you followed me home?" He asked brows raised because it was actually a statement. Her chin stuck up stubbornly.

"It's where I belong." She declared. The men around her laughed before Joker did though he laughed the loudest, gesturing to the people around them as he spun in a theatrical circle.

"_You_ belong _here_?" This was a punchline he hadn't expected. He felt like a kid on Christmas who'd gotten a toy they'd only ever dreamed of having. "Harley, Harley, Harley. These men kill for _fun_. You couldn't even kill for _purpose_." He said it affectionately. He was beginning to wonder just how far he could push her again. She was bouncing back, always bouncing back after him.

Harleen faltered for a second. He was right, she hadn't killed. She'd watched people die. She'd tried to prevent it with her work. This was her next test, she knew it. Her chest tightened; could she do it though? She tried to think of the way her father had hit the people around them in the riot. Flinching at the meaty impacts. Red roses. Daddy's little monster.

Joker grinned. He'd proven his point and she had disappointed him. She couldn't have that so she stepped forward desperately making him look back again. A slow smile spread on his face like he'd just connected some dots. Casually he slunk back to the man he'd been hanging off like they were best friends.

"Harleen. This is Jimmy. Jimmy is an old friend." He introduced dragging the man who tried to tell the Joker to back off but the fear garbled the words. He knew what was coming. The others didn't. They sat stunned and afraid. The renowned unpredictable nature of the infamous Joker was on display. The warning not to turn on him.

"_Jimmy_." He began shaking the young man a little with his hands on each shoulder before placing him on his knees in the middle of their little audience. "Jimmy decided to take more than his share while I was away." Then Joker stepped over to Harleen, hovering close, breathing down her neck. Her skin shivered, she swayed toward him but before they could touch he was gone pulling a customised pistol from a holster at his side.

"Kill him." He said simply holding out the gun to her. Eyes wide, hair falling forward slightly as she stared back. Her hands were shaking when she took the pistol from him. She tried to remain calm, composed. All eyes were on her, no one was going to interfere here. Not even the men that had come to protect Jimmy. She nodded her head slightly but couldn't find the words to speak. She'd never fired a gun before. She looked it over and then looked at the man kneeling on the ground. His eyes pleaded for mercy. Her hand shook. She couldn't do it.

"He's a bad man Harleen. He's killed a lot of people. Done a lot of really bad things. You can't even kill him." Joker half purred half snarled. He was highlighting to her that she wasn't a part of his world. Wasn't even a blip. He began to turn away back to his men ready to plan a new way to take Jimmy out. He was turning away from her. Don't look away from me. Don't look away. Don't look away. Don't look away!

She fired. There was a loud bang. Red rose. Her father smiling proudly. But her eyes didn't look at the man on the floor. They watched Joker's back as he turned slightly to look at the man bleeding out like someone glancing at a passing interest. But then surprise had set in and he looked back to her with wide eyes and his brow raised.

"Well…you beat me to the punch. I guess its good I hadn't written my speech about traitors yet." He jested as he slowly moved back over to her. He moved in close enough to make her shudder again lips brushing close. But it wasn't enough. She hadn't proven herself yet. He took the gun from her hands and stepped back.

Joker found he had become fascinated by her after that night. So had everyone else. This pretty blonde woman that everyone else called batshit insane. He got Frost to teach her how to fight, how to use a gun. She was remarkably good at it. She showed some unique moves that caught everyone's attention and without him asking, explained her background in gymnastics. She was still so orderly, moving with a purpose. That was boring. So he pushed her.

Today in their newest base of operations he'd set up his latest experiment to see how far she would go for him. He twirled the baseball bat from his escape playfully walking into the bank like he already owned the place dressed in his flashy purple coat. He smiled and held out his arms theatrically never mind the mini gun in his other hand.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Joker began as his gang shot down the tellers and security guards leaving just the civilians who had been unlucky enough to make their deposits today. Frost came from the back with Harleen. She refused to acknowledge the carnage around her by focusing on him. He growled irritably watching her from the corner of his eye. She needed to embrace it.

She didn't hear his words. The bubblegum colours shot through the world and she was at a circus with her parents. There was a panda, and a smiling man. A clown that made her laugh and laugh. Then she heard her name and she was in a bank. The man she loved was looking at her again. She smiled eagerly for him.

"Jimmy, Jimmy was too easy. But now, now I'll know if you really do _belong_." He said the word like it was a favourite joke. Had he chosen his favourite joke now?

She didn't get to analyse as he came over and for the first time since they'd held hands he touched her. She breathed in sharply, surprised by the contact. He'd made a point of always flitting out of reach but now he put the bat deliberately in her hands, cold skin on hers. Her nerve endings came alive and joy filled her chest.

"I used this bat to brutally murder one of your co-workers. Remember that?" He asked, leaning in close and whispering conspiratorially. "Now you're going to use it to murder that family, that one there." He informed her pointing to a family of four sitting on the ground. The mother was weeping, shaking her head and begging for mercy as she hid her youngest behind her.

Harleen's face fell. Her stomach dipped. How could he ask this of her? How could he be so cruel? Her hands clenched the bat like a lifeline. She said she'd prove herself to him. She had to, she had to. But her body wouldn't move.

So this was her limit. This was where she drew the line. Rolling his eyes in irritation that his game had ended so quickly he stepped in front of her searching her eyes for that devotion. How fickle was it?

"Are their lives worth more to you?" He asked pushing her buttons. Desperation crossed her eyes.

"But Mr J." He growled silencing her pleas. She'd disappointed him. She tried to reach out, to beg forgiveness, to plead for more chances, for a different route. There was a sharp pain and she was knocked to the ground. He'd hit her. She felt the welt stinging on her cheek as tears blurred her eyes. She came to realise something on the floor. Looking up through her messed hair she saw her mother lying on the ground across from her. Black and blue, black and blue and red. There was a memory as her mother put the dryer on, sitting Harleen on the table. She had a black eye.

"No normal life for me." She echoed her mother's words. No more disappointing her puddin'. She reached for the bat that had fallen with her and pushed herself up glaring down at the family now. They'd made her fail him, they'd nearly cost her him. A garden of red roses, the sound her father made with his fists. Mr J having fun in a backroom she could barely see as she was strapped down.

Joker stopped in his slow walk out with his men and the cash. There was a noise; an odd noise usually heard only when he was getting carried away. He turned around. Harley was splattered with paint. No, not paint. A manic grin broke across his face. The game wasn't over yet.

* * *

He pushed, pulled, prodded, poked, and smacked. Testing the boundaries, testing the limits of her devotion. She came back; she bounced back like the handball thrown at the wall. He saw her expressions change, becoming more and more unguarded. She wasn't hiding how strongly she desired him in the slightest. Eventually it became boring. What could he do to break her? What was the final straw? He still owed Batman a gift basket.

Harleen on the other hand survived how she could in this new world. She saw her father in the corner of her eyes nearly all the time. She heard her mother's voice when the man she loved hit her. Red roses blooming everywhere. Pretty colours flickering in her vision as she tried to follow her memories but they were never the same. They fluttered like candlelight. A bat in her hand, home-run. Black and blue and red.

Sometimes when the psychosis subsided she'd head home. She'd cry, she'd swallow some pills. She'd wonder why she wasn't on a wanted list with cops at her door. Maybe they didn't know yet. Joker was the focus after all. All eyes on him but just as long as his eyes were on her.

Mr J liked her hair out so she didn't tie it up today. She put on her glasses, a blue dress shirt, loose and allowing the cool breeze to brush through. Tight dress pants and low heeled boots. He'd told her to look nice. This had to be her final test, it _had _to be. One more trial and then he'd see. She'd _make_ him see and then he'd finally let her in. She grabbed her bat on the way out the door.

Joker checked in with Frost. Plans were going smoothly. They'd confirmed that Batman was enjoying the little play he'd prepared for him on the other side of Gotham. Perfect. He hoped Bats enjoyed the show; he'd worked so hard on it. But now, now the fishhook was stretched taught because the other act had found a little bird. They had to dress up birdie nice to go in the gift basket.

He was disturbed from his roaming thoughts when the usual murmurs spread through his goons. Harleen had arrived. Some whispers of appreciation to her figure, others commented on her insanity. What kind of crazy bitch devoted her whole being to the Joker? What kind of crazy bitch indeed.

"Hello Harleen." He purred with that growl that unsettled most people. But she smiled eagerly like it was some cooing noise of affection. His grin changed to a snarl. Old hat.

"How can I help puddin'?" She asked eagerly. He could see in her eyes the rest of the world was drowned out. All she could see was green and purple.

"We're about to get a very special guest, a very special guest indeed. See that building over there?" Joker began theatrically, gesturing widely as he directed her gaze to a decrepit structure on the harbour. She made a little noise of surprise like she hadn't noticed it.

"Do you want me to put on dinner for our guest Mr J?" She asked. Harleen checked herself after this, head swaying. She was losing it again. Black and blue and red. His grin was irritated. She pouted. She was playing with his joke, why didn't he want her in on it? He had to let her in.

"Well, sweet cakes. You're dessert. He has to go through the main course to get to you." He purred. There. She faltered. She would always falter. The good little girl hidden under the mind he'd shattered. But devotion shoved it down again. Boring. It was time to throw away this toy.

Harleen grew to learn that Joker and his thugs had set up a series of traps throughout the building all eventually leading to a chair that she was to be strapped to as bait for their new friend. There was a hole in the floor nearby, the level below half submerged in water. This building was falling apart. Happy home.

When Joker was gone, no longer able to observe her and see her smile fade she let it drop. She needed her medication. She needed that hazy numbness of the pills. She began to call out asking for a bathroom break but no one heard her. If they did they were soon distracted.

Harleen was alerted to the guest's arrival by a loud explosion. Whoops, he'd triggered a party favour. She giggled a little then stopped. Why were there tears in her eyes? She couldn't cry. No, not for this man. Not for this one. If she cried for someone else Mr J would be mad.

"How's my little princess?" Her father asked. They were at a fair. He'd given her cotton candy. His knuckles were still red no matter how many times he washed them.

"What do I do daddy?" She asked but then her father puffed away like he was made of smoke. Then her mother was there. A big bruise on her face, another on her neck. A vague recollection of a necklace her puddin' had given her, the man she loved. Purple necklace from the man in the purple jacket.

"You love him. No matter what you love him." Her mother said it without conviction. But Harleen's heart swelled. She did love her puddin'. She'd show him he could trust her.

"Are you okay?" The young voice broke through her reverie. Harleen laughed and cried. If this bothered him he didn't show it, the man in the mask. He worked quick to unstrap her from the chair. He let his guard down. It was short work to swap places and then she'd clamped the restraints over his wrists, straddling his lap. The last of her humanity met his eye.

"I'm sorry." She whispered flinching when she heard that slow, loud laugh as Joker emerged with his thugs.

"I got myself a little birdie. Won't you tell me your secrets little bird?" The Clown Prince asked performing as always with grand gestures and exaggerated words. The little boy cursed, struggling against his bindings. Then Joker was in his face, growling and laughing. They removed the mask, noted who he was and asked questions about Batman. But it didn't really matter to Joker. Knowing Bats' identity was a passing fancy. He didn't need to know the masked crusader's real name to have fun with him. And he was going to send such a beautiful gift basket.

He fired close range into Robin's shoulders, another in his leg. He let his thugs vent frustrations with fists. The cries of pain were a beautiful requiem. Then he brought out the clamps connected to the car battery. Last little test before he got rid of his toy.

"Doc-tor Quin-zel. Would you be so kind as to help us floss his brain?" He requested, holding one clamp out to her. Harleen took a breath. Her body began to tremble. She'd already gone past the point of no return, what was a little more? She tried to reason with herself but that only made it worse. So instead she watched the black and blue, the red. Roses blooming on his fancy suit, red Robin. She swallowed, earning a wink. A smile spread across her face. He'd approved. She was barely conscious of what she did as technicolour memories played themselves back to her, staggered and broken. How long had it been since he escaped? How long since she'd fallen into this dark pit with no way out? He loved it here so she should too.

Little bird was a mess when Joker was done, clinging to the last little edge of life with ragged, wheezing breaths. Harleen focused on Mr J. He was shaking a paint can. He needed to make sure Robin didn't survive, sweet little bird making pretty music. No room for error. Gift baskets had to be made up proper. But the final blow, the final act of her play.

"Harleen." He beckoned, holding out his gun to her. That vague look crossed her face, the one that irritated him. Compartmentalising the horrors she performed. Stupid little thing. "Time to put pretty birdie to sleep." He commanded though it was said as if it was fact. She smiled pleasantly.

Robin was seized by painful coughs when he tried to look up at the woman. She hadn't looked like someone who would fall in with this madman. She still didn't. So unassuming. Even now he saw it in her eyes, some last whisper of humanity. He tried to plead to it. But it was too little too late. He didn't even hear the gun fire.

A single tear slid down Harleen's face. Batman would want her now. But she'd done it. She'd proved herself. She'd done the worst thing imaginable. She'd helped end the life of one of the men trying to fix this wretched place. For that brief moment she stopped watching the man she loved. There was a voice screaming at her, screaming so loud. Make it stop, make it stop. Then she steeled herself. Chin out stubbornly she looked around the room, men preparing it for their next guest as Mr J left finished up the gift basket, a card with a sweet message attached.

"Puddin'." She called out softly. Joker froze before looking at her from the corner of his eye with a sneer on his face. He was done playing with her.

"Goodbye Harleen." She barely had enough time to register confusion. He took the gun from her then placed one of his hands on her chest and shoved. She had ended up in front of the window. The glass shattered as her body went through it, glitter dancing before her eyes as she began to fall. He still wouldn't let her in. She'd proved herself. She had. Let me in. Let me in. Let. Me. In.

* * *

((A/N: Here we are, updating late again. The next update might take a bit longer too but the story is getting closer to its end.

This one got very dark but that's what I wanted. I wanted to highlight that though Joker and Harley get romanticised a fair bit, they're still twisted, dark people that do very bad things. They're dressed like cartoon villains but they're a lot more messed up. I hope I got that across without turning people off my story.

I find it way too fun writing Harleen's deteriorating psyche and doing fragmented sentences. Thank you for reviews, favourites, and follows. As always, constructive criticism is cherished.))


	6. Chapter 6 - Heart Scares You

Chapter 6 – Heart Scares You

Harleen's lungs were on fire when her eyes sprung open. She coughed, vomiting up water and maybe some food as her stomach twisted painfully. She spat out the taste as she pushed herself up, legs staggering while she tried to get her bearings. There was the building a little further away. The pounding in her skull was the sirens. Red and blue. When she glanced down to her reflection she saw the red and blue contrasting on her face. It made her colourful like him. She giggled and then began to cry. He'd shoved her away again. She'd thought she'd been making progress but like always she'd gotten nowhere.

No. That was wrong. She had made progress, she _had_. He was just trying to shut her out, to push her away because he _knew_ he had a weakness for her. She was special. She just had to be persistent. Eyeing the cops distracted by what they had found she staggered into the shadows where she belonged. She'd lost her glasses. That didn't matter. It was easy to navigate the city streets. If strange men leered at her she'd sneer, lashing out like a wild dog if they got too close. She belonged to one man.

And he'd shoved her out a window. A fresh wave of tears blurred Harleen's vision and she began to cry. She was a mess by the time she stumbled into her home, shaky hands reaching for the little orange capsule. They shook too much. When she tried to take her medication it fell uselessly to the floor.

"Fuck!" She cried out in frustration as she threw her medicine bottle across the room. More sobs were drawn out of her as she took in her surroundings. The messy apartment, the water pooling around her. Her gaze eventually fixed on the photo frames.

"Daddy…why did you let mummy in? What do I do to make him let me in?" She asked but received only silence as answer. No, no. She couldn't accept that. She loved him, she really did. He was her puddin'. He'd shoved her out that window because he was scared. He was, he _had _to be. Because Joker didn't rely on anyone. He didn't trust anyone explicitly, not even himself. So of course he'd be afraid of someone loving him with so much devotion. She had to keep showing him, she had to convince him to let her in. And she would. He would let her in. She was his Harley Quinn. A vague smile dusted across her lips, ignoring the red and blue flashing on the apartment walls as she grabbed a spare pair of glasses and her bat. What club today?

* * *

Joker rubbed his hands together like a banker scenting money and profit. Like a kid on Christmas he could hardly wait to see Batman's reaction. But he had to of course. Bats would be very, _very_ excited with his gift basket. So excited he might not know what he was doing and Joker wanted to get a few things done before his jaw got broken again. For one thing, _if_ he ended up in Arkham again he was _not_ going to be having an extended stay. That had been extremely frustrating.

"Oh, Jonny boy!" Joker cried out enthusiastically. It had been a while since he'd felt so alive. Adrenaline still coursed in his veins but he had nothing else to do. No more punchlines to make. He'd finished his current jokes wrapping them all up in one neat little finale until next time. He let his group celebrate, drink and happiness flowing, gesturing grandly as he did little dance numbers. Freedom and retaliation hand in hand. Such beautiful bedfellows. A blonde woman caught his eye and Joker's jovial mood sunk. It wasn't Harleen. Some other dancer shaking her arse for money. But there was an annoyed growl.

Blonde hair had made him think of her. The look on her face when he'd shoved her out that window. It made him want to laugh so he did no matter the looks he earned for it. The cautious glances of people terrified of his next whim. Then the sneer was back because his gaze flitted from dancer to dancer, all blonde, none of them her. He'd created something beautiful but she had gotten boring. What was this? Why was he thinking of her. An irritated scowl conveyed his disgust at his own train of thought. He moved to leave, obedient Frost moved to follow.

"I'll call you if I need you." He warned not wanting anyone around. The presence of others annoyed him which was aggravating of itself. He was meant to be enjoying the applause of a great performance.

He shoved people out of the way, ignoring their screams as he beelined for his car. A drive would do him some good. Nothing like the thrill of speed and potential death to get the blood pumpin'. Maybe Bats would come to play.

There he was. She hadn't expected to find him so quickly. Not with Batman on the hunt for surely he was. But there was Joker getting into his car. The smell of burnt rubber, screeching tires as he took off like a gunshot. She couldn't lose him.

The closest vehicle was a bike, the rider still leaning on it. Her father had taught her to ride motorcycles. It was a fond memory. She didn't have time to lose herself in it.

"Keys, now." She ordered. The man stood up all ill intent and threat. She hit him with her bat until the pretty red flowers bloomed and took the keys while he was still recovering. Then she was off, weaving in and out of traffic. There, there was the car she wanted. She hadn't lost him. She just needed to catch up.

Was he sick? Had she done something to him? Implanted some twisted contraption in his brain when he was still out of it after the electroshock therapy? He tried to focus on the road, on just driving but still he thought of her. He should have shot her to make sure.

A vehicle came up to match his speed; he could see it from the corner of his eye. Some idiot wanted to race him. He glanced across to his dance partner and nearly lost focus in the split second of surprise. Was it? He closed his eyes for a brief second. _You're seeing things again_.

But when he looked properly out his window he saw her there looking at him with those puppy dog eyes as the wind whipped at her hair and clothes, no longer wet from the unexpected swim but it had left her locks with a slight curl. He stared at her in amazement for a brief second before frustration sunk in. Why couldn't this dumb bitch take a hint? He growled under his breath bringing his left hand up to obstruct her from his view in a theatrical act of 'she's not there if I can't see her'. He heard an aggravated shriek of her own and then the rev of her bike.

He wasn't going to block her out; she wasn't going to let him. He had to look at her, he had to. Her mantra repeated as she overtook his vehicle putting herself in his line of sight and gaining a hefty lead. Joker sighed placing both hands on the wheel. He suspected he was going to need quick reflexes in a second.

Harleen glanced back. She had to do something, something else to prove she knew he loved her, knew the reason he never actually killed her. He couldn't. He never would be able to because she meant too much to him. Then she looked forward steeling her resolve. A sliver of fear made her heart skip but she ignored it. No regard to her wellbeing as she deliberately tipped her bike sparks flying up as it fell on its side and scraped along the tarmac from momentum alone. Then when it came to a stop she hopped off with a confident walk and held her ground in the middle of the road.

Women and their theatrics, am I right? Joker rolled his eyes growling annoyance under his breath. He should hit her, he should. See how pretty she looked after being hit by a car. But after the roll of his eyes he slammed his foot hard on the breaks stopping just in front of the madwoman like she'd been positioned perfectly for another play. He sneered at her through his windscreen wondering just how he was going to get rid of her. "You…" He half growled half sighed. He had to do something permanent. She looked like an avenging goddess standing at the front of his vehicle, body shifting with heavy breaths. Intrigue tugged at his mind, where was all her strength coming from? This stubborn resolve; he kind of liked it.

"You're not leaving me. You're not leaving me!" Harleen shrieked as she slammed his bonnet.

"You, you're a little pain in the ass." He muttered to himself somewhere between amusement and annoyance.

Her breath hitched when the door opened. She had to plead her case, ignore the frown on his face, the incredulous look as his mouth hung theatrically open not even aware of the truck pulling up behind them.

"I have done…everything you said. Every test, every trial, every initiation. I have proved I love you, just _accept_ it." She declared stepping back instinctively though she was trying desperately and stubbornly to step forward or at least hold her ground to show him her conviction if her voice or her tears could not. Joker impatiently held his hands up and waved them down in a 'just stop' command.

"Got it, got it, got it, got it." The words were low and mocking like always. He didn't believe her still. She felt the tears running down her face. How did she prove herself, how did she show him she was telling the truth? He was just so _stubborn_. The theatrics began; he put on his show, locking her behind the fourth wall.

"I am not someone who is…_loved_." He said the word like it was a fancy dream he could never believe in, rolling his head. Then in an attempt to startle her or perhaps just to emphasise his point he smacked his hands together in a clap that reverberated in the overpass. "I'm an idea." He declared, eyes rolling up in amusement. He sincerely didn't want to have anything holding him to the ground. Someone he might care about. Fresh tears welled up in her eyes. It was okay, he would be safe loving her, it was okay.

"State of mind…" He continued interrupted by the impatient honk of the truck driver behind them. But neither of them paid the stranger any notice looking intently at the mental case opposite them as one tried to plead with the other to change their point of view. Fresh agony twisted in Harleen's chest. Why was he still rejecting her?

"I execute _my_ will according to _my _plan and you." Here he extended the word after circling her. She closed her eyes to the denial. She had to make him see. "Doctor." That impersonal word again. She wasn't his doctor anymore. She was his Harley Quinn. "Are not part of my plan." He finished. But she wasn't letting him win, she wasn't backing down. She brought her hands up to either side of his face and took a hold of him, revelling in the soft locks, the cold skin, forcing him to look at her. She watched his eyes, his lips. She wanted to kiss him but he was already pulling away.

"Just let me in, I promise-" Here he danced and twisted away in disbelief, laughing at her words, laughing at her like a little girl who didn't know what she was saying. Too desperate to let him interrupt her she shouted louder. "Let me in! I promise I won't hurt you."

"A promise, promise?" The question was like a joke, a child's lack of understanding, a fairytale for him to laugh at as he danced and flitted away from her. She tried to follow.

"Hey, dick face!" The impatient truck driver had had enough. He'd hopped out of his vehicle with a tyre iron completely oblivious to who the man with green hair was, the laughing man who glanced over his shoulder to assess how to deal with the extra uninvited guest. While he was distracted Joker missed Harleen reaching. She pulled his custom gun from its holster and without even looking she shot the third wheel in the head. Joker didn't react more than his shoulders slumping. Maybe in astonishment, maybe in a sigh of 'ah well'.

"I was gonna say I wouldn't do that if I were you, but…" His joke died on his lips as the pale, laughing man turned back to find Harleen was aiming the pistol at his head. An expression that communicated 'really?' crossed his face. There was a hint of admiration in his gaze that she would even have the guts. Sometimes he wanted to revel in this thing he had created. Her blank stare was deliberate. Maybe she wasn't even aware of what she was doing anymore or maybe the thought of shooting him was actually crossing her mind. Now, wasn't that exciting?

"Don't hurt me. I'll be your friend." He played, hands up in submission as he grinned at the game. She pressed the gun against his forehead harder or maybe he walked a little closer. Details. Joker growled and awed in amazement that she'd even do this much. "Do it. Do it, do it, do it." He repeated in chant as if daring her. He wanted to see if she would. Maybe this would be the joke he had played on himself?

"My heart scares you and a gun doesn't." Harleen observed, smiling at the twisted truth of her final words. This annoyed him. She was psychoanalysing again. He hated that.

"Do it!" He roared hoping she'd at least put him out of his misery, snarling and then his hand had shot up, pointing the pistol to the sky and snatching it out of her grip. The opportunity had passed, the moment was over. He laughed, placing the end against his temple tempted for a split second to do it for her just to see the look on her face.

Harleen swallowed. It had crossed her mind. She'd wanted to pull the trigger. Some of the voices, the whispers she was beginning to hear had said do it with him. Begged her to. For revenge, out of spite because he wouldn't let her in, to see the pretty roses bloom. She swallowed at the macabre laugh she had heard so many times before, the theatrics telling her he was pushing her away again.

"If you weren't so crazy I'd think you were insane." He declared. There was something close to pity in his gaze then though it was smothered in impatience. Her heart twisted like a knife had been wrenched from it only to stab in again. More tears in her eyes but she blinked them away.

"Go. Away." He growled letting his glare linger as he slowly stepped back towards his car. Had she finally taken the hint? Was he finally free of her?

Nope.

"I can prove myself to you, I'll do anything. _Anything_." She begged desperately. She couldn't let him leave. Not again. He was sparing her life again. That meant something. Anyone else he would have shot them by now. But she was special, she _had_ to be. Joker hissed in annoyance, finger itchy on the trigger as he considered ending this all now.

"God, I could throw acid in your face and you'd still come crawling back." He complained. A bubble popped. Acid. That was poetic. A nice punchline, a good way to go. One final hurrah, the end game for him to win. The wolfish grin spread over his face.

"Come with me." Harleen wanted to smile. But she couldn't. Not yet. He'd put his guard up. Tears still in her eyes, fear heavy in her gut miserable at the idea that she still hadn't shown him. But she could, she would change his mind and do it dutifully. Follow his orders, follow his words, follow his ideas. Black and red and blue.

* * *

Bats was probably still out looking for him but Joker still had his lost puppy to deal with before he could go into hiding for the oncoming day. She stopped crying while he was driving to an industrial part of the city; isolated, dark. No one around especially at this time of night. Now she had this vacant smile on her face like there was nothing in her head. His intention almost felt like a mercy. That was irritating.

She followed obediently when he stepped out of the car, shadows flaring up to look like monsters from a disjointed memory. He opened his arms as if greeting an old friend and heard a breathy laugh like she was in on it too. She hadn't guessed the punchline though.

Weaving through a maze of structures and grated catwalks Joker led his puppy high up above the bubbling containers filled with a milky white liquid. His skin prickled at the memory of the acid burning his skin and he growled under his breath letting Harleen slowly step up the edge to sate her curiosity.

She'd heard of this place. A lifetime ago when a starry eyed Doctor Quinzel had dreamed of putting the pieces of his broken mind back together he'd told her a story. A story of a man whose cold white skin had been burned into existence. Looking down she felt the steam rising from those pits stinging in her nose, sour and bitter on her tongue. This was somewhere private, personal, flawed. Was this it? Was he finally letting her in? Were all her deepest desires being granted because she'd begged so prettily? Colours winked back at her from the white; red and blue like the water's surface some hours ago, like the walls of her apartment as she had left earlier tonight. The red and blue that chased after Mr J's carnage; her puddin'. He had been born here.

"You know this place? You know why I've brought you here?" They sounded like statements once again phrased as questions. He expected her to work it out and staring down at the bubbling goo she clicked the pieces together. She had to be reborn here too. But would she survive? Would the burning and itching drive her so far into her insanity she never came back from it again?

For one hazy minute Harleen was on the surface, curiosity and apprehension making her chest rise and fall. Then she heard Joker draw in breath behind her and Harley came crawling back.

"Question." He growled out like a threat. Her skin came alive as he gently stroked the back of a finger down her arm forcing her head to swim with adoration and she turned to look at him. She wanted to smile, to kiss him but she had to stand firm. Kissing could come later when she'd proven herself.

"Would you die for me?" Wide eyed he searched for doubt, for hesitation. For the lie in the inevitable confirmation. Harley knew it, saw it there and did everything to convey her conviction.

"Yes." She said like the loyal soldier standing to attention.

"That's too easy…" Joker responded looking off to the side like the air held the better question he was grasping for. Death was release, relief, and freedom. Dying didn't take heart. It didn't mean showing her adoration over and over again, just in one fleeting moment. But living…living took guts.

"Would you…" Theatrics, a glance over her that betrayed his doubts, his hesitation. Was he aware of it? Was she reading too much into it? No. She'd broken down his walls, she could see it. She just needed to slip inside them before they could be put back up.

"Would you _live _for me?" Joker's head tilted back like he was regarding her curiously. A hum of query, an expression that seemed genuinely interested in her answer.

"Yes." Tears were in her voice, the start of desperation screaming for him to understand that when she said she would do anything for him she meant _anything_.

Joker almost laughed. Would this broken thing really go so far? Would he trust her to? No. He trusted no one; hardly even trusted himself. But he hid his sneer. Couldn't give away the game plan, no.

"Careful." He warned. "Do not say this oath…_thoughtlessly_." Theatrics again and then he'd placed his smile over her face. Joker's smile, the clown smile, the insane smile.

"Desire becomes surrender, surrender becomes _power._" He said the words like a prayer and Harley felt her heart shift, drawing her in, reaching for the darkness. To make herself disappear into the deep dark with him. And he saw it, she knew. In his eyes was the recognition and something; that urge to lean forward that _he_ shared. He'd deny it, oh he would. But she _saw_ it. It was betrayed in the way he caressed her chin, her lips.

"You want this?" It almost sounded like he was asking himself but Harley raised her head showing her conviction in the way she gazed back at him.

"I do." She declared. The smallest sigh; was it surprise? Amusement? Disbelief exiting his lungs?

"Say it." Joker's head tilted back like someone relishing in delight or preparing to. "Say it. Say it." He growled baring his fangs. "Pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty…" The word continued in a whisper like a suggestion floating in the air. He was drawing her in further and further.

"Please." Harley begged fixated on her Mr J before her, wanting nothing more than to say the thing he wanted most. To be the thing he wanted most. She watched his expression as he made a noise of adoration.

"God, you're so…_good_." He praised. There was a look in his eyes, one she had never seen before. There was something bittersweet about it. Like someone saying goodbye forever. Then he gestured toward the edge of their platform and her legs moved with the puppeteer's strings. Harleen felt doubt but she buried it under devotion. If this didn't work, if she could not survive the process she had to look at him at least one last time.

Joker watched her back. That brief wave of…something was gone now. The only emotions swirling inside were excitement and relief. The joy of being rid of one more annoyance as she finally took the leap and would be gone from his life.

When she turned to face him he grinned in what he hoped was convincing reassurance, arms held up like he was beholding her beautiful moment of rebirth. He received a vacant smile in response and then relished in witnessing the theatrical moment of a beautiful performance as Harley spread her arms and dropped back to fall.

She was flying. Her thoughts tumbled inside her for one brief second and she felt free. Bliss. And then the sharp, acrid taste of the liquid as she hit the surface in bruises. Black and red and blue. All smothered quickly in the dark of unconsciousness. Red and blue. Red and blue chasing after chaos.

Joker stepped to the edge to watch her disappear under the surface. The puppy was gone. He thought he'd enjoy it but his mind wandered after her. She truly did worship him, dedicating not just her body and soul but her mind to him as well. Her everything. This broken thing he had created unwittingly. It was so beautiful in its insanity. And now it was gone; he was done.

The pale man turned to leave like he had always intended but thoughts tugged at his back putting weight in each step. He came to a stop. She had done all he asked over and over again. She was an annoying addition to his plan but she had proven to be cut from the same psychotic cloth. For a brief second he struggled between the desire to be rid of her, to go it alone and something else. Something he didn't like. And that something won out.

Irritation growled out of his throat as he struggled with these thoughts, with the acknowledgement that Harley had won. She was right. She was his. They belonged together. She had been made for him, hadn't someone said that?

Cursing to himself he turned around and stripped his suit jacket away. No use for extra clothes to weigh him down in that muck. It was hard enough to move in as it was. His skin prickled in anticipation, a memory of what was to come. Then he had jumped after her.

It burned less this time around. But it stung his eyes something fierce as he reached through the thick liquid for Harley's lifeless body. Then he was pulling them both to the surface. She was limp in his arms. No, she couldn't die now. Not when he had changed his mind. The world danced to his whim, he always made sure it turned out that way. He leaned down trying to breathe life into her, losing himself in the way her lips met his. The taste of the acid stinging his tongue.

Life came back to her in reds and blues. Sleeping beauty and true love's kiss. Her prince was holding her in his arms, clothes half melted and skin no doubt prickling the same way hers did. She adored him. When he leaned back down to kiss her again her arms reached out instinctively curling over him, around him. That laugh that was all his own, that was his solitary howl of isolation echoed through the warehouse and her giggles followed after. Right where they belonged.

* * *

((A/N: I think I got a little lost from my usual style with this one, flitting between the two a bit too much. Hopefully it's still enjoyable. I'm not sure I did the original scenes justice either.

One more chapter left then a brief epilogue. We're nearly there peeps. Thank you Red Reaper88 for continued reviews and thank you to others for follows and favourites. They're what encourage me to keep going. Thanks again and as always, constructive criticism is cherished.))


	7. Chapter 7 - Date Night

Chapter 7 – Date Night

Red and blue, melting shirts dying her soul. A giggle, a howling laugh. Morning frost that carried them away. Memories flickering through her mind tinted pink. The red on daddy's hands. Mother, black and blue. Daddy's little monster.

A sharp intake of breath and Harley was back in the present sitting in the back of the car with her puddin's arms wrapped around her. Her grin hummed when she caught his eye. He'd left her to swim in her memories but now that sneer that should have sent her running lured her closer. Her skin was prickling, a burn and an itch as Harleen peeled away to reveal Harley beneath.

"Whatcha' thinkin' about Mr J?" She asked in her sing-song voice happy laughter applauding her question. He growled to her but did not answer, eyes casting far away. But Harley didn't mind. He could do whatever he wanted. He cared about her, which was all she needed. She'd proved herself and proved to herself that she was right. Mr J loved her.

Happy home. She walked unabashedly into the safe house where a few of Joker's goons turned to stare against their better judgement. Her clothes were peeling away with her skin which was itching something fierce. As she stopped to scratch her arms Joker took the lead, escorting her upstairs. He shoved her under a shower and she shrieked when the cold water hit. For all his comments on his skin being numb she wasn't suffering the same affliction.

But the cold chased away the burn, acid gurgling down the drain. Then Joker was with her, peeling his clothes away and then his hands cupped her head, lips pressed against hers. Pink flickered through and she giggled at a man in a straight jacket. Cute little kitty waving. She took her medicine like a champ, kissing Joker back just as fierce. She'd earned this. This was hers.

Like an addict she breathed deep, relishing every second of finally having her hit. Her eyes rolled as Puddin' showered affection over her, a content sigh following them out of the bathroom to the bedroom beyond.

The beauty of her insanity was that she was lulled to sleep afterwards by flickering versions of her memories, each one more delightful than the last. Her skin still prickled as she drifted off but a smile was spread across her face like a permanent fixture.

Joker chewed on his thoughts as he watched her sleep. Some punchline this was; his thoughts were tough, overcooked. Unappetising. Oh, there was fun to be had in beautiful women, especially crazy beautiful women. But this was never his intention. He growled under his breath. Why hadn't he been able to abandon her? Why had he felt that irritating tug to turn around and go after her?

She mumbled in her sleep, shifting closer, drawing a startled breath out of a man thought mad as an old, _old_ memory flickered up from the abyss. For one brief second his hand hovered over her shoulder, anticipating comfort and that thing, that word he didn't believe in. But then he snarled and shoved her away, storming out of the room. His masterpiece didn't even wake up from her sugar coated dreams.

* * *

Batman worked hard to track him down. It was a good game of cat and mouse. But since Joker had been an excellent host, leaving party favours around the city Batman had been a bit distracted. It was all good fun. The latest report from the tattoo shop he was currently residing in had stated that good ol' Bats hadn't managed to save a single one of them. Poor Bats.

Chuckling to himself Joker's happy mood was interrupted. Harley had woken up. Slinking down from their bedroom above her grin was directed at him and then it shifted to the people around them. His men looked about uneasily. He knew that some of them appreciated the odd glance but since he'd brought her home, skin peeling to reveal the deranged monster beneath, a lot of them just tried to avoid her. Joker was infamous for his unpredictability; Harley took it to a whole other level. He could see it when he watched her. A change in expression, the vacant stare when she was lost in a memory; which memory determined her mood when she came out. Sometimes she giggled, laughed, kissed and played. Sometimes she came out angry, swinging her bat, her hammer, any weapon she could get her hands on. If they were lucky she just broke things; the unlucky ones got their bones broken.

But the ones that intrigued him the most, the funny little thing she did that caught his attention was when she was sad. Some memory that made her look a little like that lost puppy that had drowned in the acid. She came out vindictive from those candy coloured dreams. Then she cut with words; pulled his men apart and bruised their insides. They became disarmed by her insight and wary of these moments. Not too unlike how he felt; cautious of this thing, this tumour that attached itself to him. The one he wanted to cut away but just couldn't.

"How you doin' Miss Quin?" His cold glare moved to Lawrence. This kid was new blood; stupid blood. Was he playing at brave face or really that ignorant? Joker was tempted to teach him a lesson, trigger finger itchy but he held back his bared fangs as he watched Harley giggle and eye the young man playfully. She liked the attention. Eyes on me.

Nate was getting a new tattoo while Frost was reporting to Mr J, information needed for the next takeover. If you want to do bigger productions you need a bigger stage and he still hadn't got his old one back; not quite. Not until he had the big clubs up and running again could he work on his next performance. Couldn't hold his next masterpiece on the smaller stages, no siree. That was too rude to good ol' Bats.

Nate had worked with Joker long enough to say nothing when the tattoo gun was wrenched away from his artist and his seat taken by the clown prince of crime. Harley's happy giggles turned into a gasp of pain, her puddin' gripping a little too hard as he yanked her over to him and began to draw on her back, needle pricking into her skin.

But she moaned into it. Eying Mr J over her shoulder like she was in on the joke. Like they had their own secret world. As reality flickered like an aerial TV not getting enough signal he began to consider that they just might.

He seemed focused on his work on her skin though he spent the hours acknowledging the information Frost gave him and issuing orders. When he did finally draw away Harley took the gun from him and started to etch more designs into her thighs. If she was going to return the favour one day she needed to get good at it. She had to be perfect for her puddin'.

"Daddy's got to duck out for you sweetheart." Joker's velvet voice interrupted, chasing away the candy colours buzzing at the edges of her mind. Harley's mouth hung open in a confused 'huh' when reality came back and she stared after her Mr J getting ready to leave.

"Puddin', I can come with you. I could take my bat, some extra guns. Make it a proper date night if I get dressed up pretty." She begged, clinging to him like a leech. A smirk tugged at the corner of Joker's mouth; how _had_ he made this beautiful mess of a human?

"Oh, darlin', next time. I need you to be a good little girl and stay home. Put some dinner on for when I get back, okay?" He purred sneering into a kiss that she greedily took.

"Love you Mr J." She bid farewell, Joker hefting the machine gun he'd loaded as he lead his troop out the door. If she cared that he didn't respond she didn't show it.

* * *

Joker breathed out in something that might have been construed as a sigh but it came off more like a snarl. He could still smell the burnt gunpowder in the air, red and blue chasing after them like the cops cared about the thugs they'd taken care of. But that was the boring part of the story. The interesting part, the _really_ juicy bit was the morsel they'd gotten out of the police officer already on the scene. Lawrence was one of theirs. A no-good cop dolled up all nice as a gang member. They needed to track him, to move. He'd know about the threat of his cover being blown, he'd have moved. And if he'd passed along intel Bats probably had it too and oh, good ol' Bats was gunning for Mr J. Really wanted to thank him for that gift basket but the house wasn't ready for guests.

"Find out where he is and bring him to me." Joker ordered Frost as they returned to the tattoo parlour. They were here to get a few things or so Mr J had said. He wouldn't admit that there was only one thing he really cared about picking up, the notion even crossing his fragmented mind sent frustration through the shattered pieces. His internal sneer glaring back from the shards.

The thoughts drifted away like disturbed smoke when he opened the door to his bedroom. Harley grinned back at him dressed in an apron with a diamond print covering a tiny outfit of red and blue.

"Welcome home puddin'. I was just tenderising dinner." She greeted, slinking over to shower her puddin' with her devotion. 'Dinner' was Lawrence tied to a chair in the middle of the room. He'd clearly been tortured. Bruised, bleeding, and a look of utter defeat in his eyes. A car battery had been placed on the table next to him showing that the Mrs was just about to start cooking. A good ol' floss of the brain made for good prep work.

Joker's laugh came out as a breath of surprise at first. Wonder filling his eyes as he looked at what his darling had prepared for him before that deranged howl of laughter came bellowing out in an unnerving cry. How she'd found out he had no clue; maybe she hadn't and was just having a bit of fun but it made him grab her head and kiss her hard.

"You're just so…" That squeak of amazement again. When would Harley stop surprising him with how well she fit at his side?

She hummed in delight, prancing over to circle Lawrence, trailing her hands along him to insight a whimper. But her eyes were on Mr J.

"Hello Lawrence. Or should I say Officer Martin?" He purred taking his time to approach the man in the chair. He began to cry through his gag, the once pretty face swelling from a bruise on his left eye, blood trailing from his nose. She'd been thorough. "It seems I need to reteach the lesson to everyone that you don't put on a show for Joker. He puts on a show for you."

Frost had heard the howls of pain and now he stood outside like the loyal watchdog as Harley and Joker had their fun. The Clown Prince would still move home base soon but not before attaching Officer Martin to the battery Harley had prepared. No relaxants or sedatives, his body convulsed against the binds while Joker rewarded his masterpiece for her devotion. Greedily she drank him in, clawing at his clothes, his skin, trying to pull him so close they became one. The stench of burnt flesh wafted over to them on the other side of the room.

"Mmm. Smells like dinner's ready Harley." He purred, moving over to remove the cables from the long deceased Lawrence. Whatever he'd intended to do, Harley interrupted him dragging his attention back to her.

"But I want to have dessert instead." She cooed trying to pout around her grin. Joker happily obliged his princess.

* * *

They continued to elude Bats and bring chaos back to Gotham; not that the city needed their help all that much but Joker and Harley; that was a different bag of cats.

Meanwhile Joker found himself becoming more and more obsessed with his latest plaything. Or was it an old plaything? Did it count as new when he pulled it apart and put it back together to his own liking? These thoughts were peppered throughout flashes of red and blue, two colours that had chased him for so long they felt like home as Harley straddled his lap. He enjoyed his morning wake up calls, the singsong of her voice no longer grating. Most of the time.

"Mr J." A voice interrupted. Not Frost's, he knew better but the flip had been switched and Joker saw the look in Harley's eye change.

"Don't interrupt!" She shrieked and a knife she'd had hidden somewhere went hurtling across the bedroom to the doorway, sticking his goon in the shoulder. Harley chased after it, puppy playing fetch and Joker slumped black, one hand floating through the air in frustrated disbelief that she was about to kill another henchman. He was running out of the ones that weren't loyal just out of fear.

"Doctor." He growled and Harley immediately looked back. No, no, not that word. Not when she'd been watching the red flowers bloom, making a bouquet of the man who'd dared interrupt her alone time with puddin'. She cowed more from the term than from the rough way he snatched her back, twisting her arm painfully as he hissed threat into her ear. Daddy used to grab mummy like that. Harley grinned, cotton candy colours playing memories back to her and Joker let her go. No use disciplining her when her mind was elsewhere.

He growled to himself as her giggles lead her over to him, taking back her place on his lap like nothing had happened. He was disturbed by the way his anger had relented to…something. What horrible circumstance would change his frustration to fondness? He kept his gaze on her as he contemplated this terrible fascination but gestured to Frost hovering around the door to say his piece.

"We got the Madhouse and some generous cash flow to our allies. A few others would like to welcome you back to Gotham's elite." Frost advised before being brushed away to make the necessary preparations. Joker's mind hovered over plans, stage-plays, jokes, everything else for a little while before it was right back where it always went. Red and blue vying for his attention.

When night rolled around Joker and Harley had dressed up pretty; he'd promised her they'd go on a date night once he'd finished some business. She could dance and play with the others while he did what he had to. He'd call her if he needed her. He kissed the heart he'd marked on her cheek that night where they'd had dessert before following Frost to his throne room.

And oh how the peasants paid fealty to their Clown Prince. Honeyed words and sparkling gifts. All of them uneasy though some put on better masks than others. As the night wore on he found his eye drifting longer and longer to the ballerina twirling in her music box; black and gold diamonds and a grin. But her eyes weren't on him, why weren't they on him? They were meant to always be on him. He restrained his growl for once. Maybe _he_ needed to floss _his_ brain. There was something wrong with it.

His eyes remained transfixed as his final knight came to bow to the Clown Prince. T-Pain. What a name. Standard thug. Nothing like the carnival of nutters that were becoming common in Gotham. But he had good contacts. Ones Mr J could use as Bats was getting closer and closer to his tail.

Frost was quick to offer advice to the thug sparing Joker the effort. It had gotten boring.

"Hey J." He greeted once he'd sat down failing to drag the green haired man's attention away from his dancing princess. "On behalf of everybody, welcome back." He continued like he wasn't being ignored. "I wanted to come by and personally say thank you. You're making me good money; I'm making you good money.

"Are you sweet talking me?" Joker finally responded pulling out his act. What a character. He laughed through his smile at this movie-star thug. "I love this guy." He informed Frost, leaning forward to check T-Pain out. Yes, this was a man used to looking intimidating. Used to being top dog in a normal world. But Gotham had long abandoned normal. "He's so intense." Joker added with delight. Uncomfortable T-Pain removed his glasses more for something to do than actual intent. His indecisive response was distracted when awe shouted out from the crowds on the dance floor. Harley had done something and now the thug was appreciating her with an approving hum.

"You're a lucky man. You got a _bad_ bitch." He commended, unable to take his eyes off of Harley's dancing.

A spark of something shot through Joker. Some twisted feeling that made him sick, flipping a switch somewhere in his brain. How _dare_ he.

"Oh, that she is." Joker began theatrics ready to go as he raised a hand like a preaching man to gesture at his plaything. He didn't take his eyes off T-Pain who soon glanced back in confusion and apprehension as Joker slowly stood up.

"The fire in my loins, the itch in my _crotch_." He growled it out not because of that feeling, that one that threatened T-Pain but his own frustrations at how obsessed he'd become with that dancing she-devil. Even Frost was put-off by Joker's next performance as he introduced the main player in his next act.

"The one, the only, the infamous _Harley Quinn!_" Joker called out before watching his goddess lose herself in a memory of red roses. But she listened for his whistle and even amidst memories and revelries she made her way over to her Mr J. T-Pain took his shot, clearly beginning to realise his mistake and showing his regret in his discomfort.

"Oh, come to daddy." Joker greeted as Harley made her way to his throne, glittering gold. His plaything, his masterpiece.

"Puddin'" She professed, grin on her face and eager to please. She'd play her part so well, he knew she would. She was just so _good_.

"Listen. _You_ are my gift to this handsome hunka-hunka!" He made sure to accentuate his theatre with the proper gestures, dusting a hand through his hair as he tried to hold back the psychotic rage burning at the edges of his mind now. He could hardly wait for this punchline.

"_You _belong to him now." Mr J declared and grinning happily Harley played a good little girl, growling and snapping playfully at her new master.

"You're cute." She exclaimed, sitting in his lap like an obedient 'bad bitch'. "You want me? I'm all yours." She promised with a laugh before glancing back to Mr J as if she was in on his joke.

But Joker, he was struggling with something. Something disgusting, frustrating. Something that made his skin burn and itch worse than acid. This raging jealousy that made it hard to breathe as he watched _his_ Harley flirt with someone else. T-Pain wasn't fool enough to take Harley or Joker up on their offer. He kept his eyes locked on Mr J, his intense presence having vanished as the crazy pair could see fear in his eyes. You never showed fear to wild beasts.

"I don't want no beef." He cautioned but it was already far too late.

"You don't want no beef?" Joker repeated, again and again like the sentence was echoing in his skull trying to find the right tone of voice for it. He heard it over and over, like a lightning rod begging to direct this unbridled frustration seeping into his skin and tearing at an already deranged psyche. She was _his_ plaything. He'd made her. And no one else could have her. _No one._

"Why? What's wrong? You don't like me?" Harley asked, acting perfectly. "Fine, don't waste my time then." She stalked away like she was offended. But Harley couldn't keep up the act, not when she knew what was coming next.

"This your lady." T-Pain tried to excuse but it wasn't enough. Oh, no, not for her Mr J. The switch had been flipped. You could flip it back but the outcome might be worse. That was the joy in it. Harley couldn't even keep on a mask of pretence anymore. Though she subdued her excitement at seeing puddin' at work she could not stop the grin from spreading across her face as she sat down.

"Look." Joker started completely ignoring the woman who had thrown him so far out of character. "Are you enjoying yourself?" The warning smile, the disarming attempt at pleasantness that always came off as wolfish. Harley giggled in anticipation as she watched that fear dig deeper into the thug's spine until it _really _had a hold on him.

"No…" He tried to soothe, backing away. "That's your lady, Joker."

"That's right." Puddin' acknowledged with a laugh. Oh, T-Pain had no idea. That lady, that annoying little barb pricking his heart that he just couldn't get rid of. The tell, the hand through the hair as Joker became resigned to the fact that there would never be a Mr J without a Harley Quinn. Not anymore.

"Yo', J-" It was all T-Pain got out before Joker tried to vent his frustrations with pretty red roses.

"Ohhh, a bouquet. You shouldn't have puddin'." Harley cooed over the roses. Such a great present for date night. She was laughing, trying to show them off to cold, little Jack Frost but then her puddin' had dragged her away.

Bubblegum colours flashed. She was dancing; there was fire, anger, acid burning her nose. She was laughing at a strong man at the circus. She was dressed in the cutest black and red outfit when a clown came to dance with her. Then there was the rev of an engine and she laughed again, bumper cars.

Blue and red lights flashed in her eyes and Harley came back just as the cop car chasing Mr J took a tight turn too fast and crashed into a shop. They laughed together and speeding past the other cars they went.

Joker eyed her; this masterpiece he'd created. Testing her reactions as he drifted too close, drove into oncoming traffic. There was no fear in her expression though. Just that puppy adoration for him and his thrill for chaos, for uncertainty mirrored in her eyes. He laughed some more.

"Come on puddin'. Do it!" She begged the closer they got to crashing. But date night was to get a third wheel. He spotted the vehicle of his gracious host barrelling behind them.

"Oh. We have got company." He told his darlin' with delight and she smiled in return.

"Batsy, basty, basty." It was a purr. A promise to do whatever he asked. A reminder that she had played a part in the gift basket that had the masked vigilante so hot on his tail.

A thud on the roof told them their old friend had arrived much sooner than intended. Cat and mouse hadn't finished playing yet.

Harley growled, more annoyed by this than Mr J and reached for one of his pistols without a hint of request.

"Stupid Bats. You're ruining date night!" She cried out in frustration. This was her time with Mr J. Batman had to wait. Come play another day. She fired, barely even registering how she'd amused her puddin' with her ruthless response.

A swerve of the car that filled the air with the scent of burnt rubber redirected Harley's attention from the roof and she checked where Joker was heading. The guard rail for what might have once been a pleasant ocean walk greeted her and no amount of insanity could stop the fear that entered her head.

"Puddin'." She tried to call to him but his foot was as cement. "Puddin', I can't _swim!_" Came her scream of terror, applauded by the impact of the water, the glass shattering between the ocean and her body thrown forward. Candy hues tried to filter into the world but black tendrils moved faster, her vision blurring as her head stung fierce.

Joker saw this. Any other man would have entertained the thought of taking her with him but even a Mr J as tormented by this parasite as he was, was quick to discard her. The closest thing to consideration was the moment where, as he escaped alone and began to swim away, he left a dagger in her hand.

Harley watched the merman disappear into the ocean, clutching his gift in her hand; she saw the flash of a knife and smiled a little to herself. The moment played back with pink hues, a hand touching the top of her head like her father's. Daddy's little monster. She went to rest through the window of the car.

A memory of normal. Of the doctor. But it didn't last, didn't stay for more than a moment. She felt someone lift her head and her hand tightened around the knife. Ignorant to her underwater state, she snarled and lashed out, not going down without a fight. But she was nothing to Batman. One quick hit to an already foggy head and she was down for the count.

She would awake to play with the Bats. Taunt him in every way she knew how. Prod and poke and pick him apart in the hopes that she'd get him to break his stupid code. He took her to her cell and she laughed all the way. Right up until Batman pointed out that she was in it by herself. Soaked through and all alone. Where was her puddin'?

* * *

((A/N: Sorry for the long delay with this one. I had intended to finish it and have it posted soon after getting back from holiday but came back and had to hit the the ground running at work and just never got time to get this done. I think the stress of that may have ruined this chapter a bit. I feel like I lost their inner voices a bit more here.

It's still fun to write a disconnected Harley though. A bit hard to show a Joker infatuated because I feel like a part of him does love her but he rejects that part in most incarnations bar this one that seems to have embraced it in his own twisted way. Trying to portray that is tricky. Hope I'm still doing them some justice.

Just a very short epilogue left that should be up in a week or so. Thanks for coming on the ride those few of you that have. And again, constructive criticism is cherished.))


	8. Epilogue - Started A Joke

Epilogue – Started A Joke

"Come on. You're six foot four; she's a tiny little girl." The guardsman declared to his subordinate. Harley giggled. His wrist had broken so easily though.

She pouted pretty, asked the pretty man for a quarter for the jukebox. Needed some music for the circus. He'd tried to tell her no. Only one man told her no. So she'd broken his wrist and then the others had backed her into a corner like she was a small thing but her laughter stated otherwise. Made her bigger. Made her dangerous. Like _he_ did.

The world flashed candy colours again, her mind tumbling memories. She was strapped down, a green haired prince admiring her pearls. Then there was pain, something through her nose like acid but not acid. Pudding flavours. Where was her puddin'?

"Miss Quinzel. Miss Quinzel." A stern, womanly voice called her back and with a deep breath the candy hues flickered away. Harley looked around. Wrong side of the table.

Her eyes fixed on the older lady. She glared. Ignored the questions, the words. She didn't want a hotel stay, she wanted home. She wanted her puddin'.

"She's unresponsive again today." The doctor declared, a bolt of irritation striking through Quinzel. How dare they assign someone so useless to her? Wasn't even going to put the effort in to even give a half-assed attempt at pulling the mess apart and making something out of it.

"Givin' up so soon doc? No wonder Arkham never hired you!" She cried out, launching forward the minute she was uncuffed from the table. They didn't see the missing pen when they pulled her off the woman.

Laughing as she was dragged back to her cell, it was a relatively normal hotel room with bars to lean against and play on. But there were signs this place was something else. The extra guards, the lack of any words or symbols anywhere giving away what the building was or where it was. And the other cells. There were ones designed to hold the other crazies in. Those colourful characters she would have itched to pull apart and analyse once upon a time. This was some place special. Some place new.

It was also some place dull.

"I'm bored." She complained to the two men that remained from her escort. She pouted and one of them rolled his eyes and ignored her. But the other man, he had that look in his eyes. That one she knew how to play all too well. "Won't you play a game? I'm bored." Harley pouted again, leaning through the bars and reaching out to the man that was humouring her.

A wide grin as he got closer, closer. Close enough. A magic trick as the pen disappeared and he screamed and clutched his eye. She laughed making short work of the other guard as he made his way into her cell. She skipped down the hall, prancing from window to window with a delighted laugh before something hit her in the back and the black shadows battled with the cotton candy colours until she dropped to the floor.

When she woke up she had a new room. Penthouse sweet. A cell in the middle of a rather open area with more guards. Her mattress on the floor. If Joker was here he'd be sour at the game. They hadn't even given her a new mattress. All these precautions and they were too stupid to give her a new freakin' mattress. How was she still locked up?

Coyly she played along the rest of the day, through the next. Again and again until on the third when the lunch bell rang. Class was out, in came the good little boys. Mr In Charge wasn't there today. But she wanted his attention. Had to thank him for the pudding.

"Morning boys." She greeted as they prepared themselves to grab her, unassuming sitting in the middle of her cell atop the mattress. The mattress with the tear, the hiding place of all her treasures. Carnival music played. One, two, three, four, five. A full hand, she wanted to keep playing but someone ended the game with a final jolt that flickered a memory through her skull. The next time she woke up all she had left were the rags of her clothes and a tattered sheet. They'd built another cage around her cage. How was she getting home now?

He'd eluded Bats. Disappeared time and again, continuing his game of cat and mouse. But the fun had been drained out of it. Out of gift baskets, out of theme parks. Punchlines were drab, chaos tasteless. Everyone saw he was on edge. His men were more cautious of him than ever. He was on a hair-trigger.

Lying back on his throne he glanced to the door as he heard laughter from beyond. It wasn't hers though. Where was Harley?

She hadn't shown up in Arkham, Blackgate. None of the usual places. They'd taken her somewhere else. Somewhere he'd never heard of. Somewhere he couldn't find her. He shouldn't care, it _shouldn't_ matter. He was finally free of her. Free of this _poison_, red and blue toxin in his veins.

But he did care. That bolt of irritation, a snarl in the back of his throat every time the thought occurred to him. At the edges of his mind there was acknowledgement somewhere. An unwanted visitor as he dug the knife into his arm rest, the one that had been fished out from where she had disappeared. Frost knew that look on his boss' face.

"Sir." He answered obediently. Joker was going hunting. He couldn't work on his routine like this; and with what Batman had done lately; he wanted to make sure he put on a _good_ show. One that Gotham would never forget.

"_Find her_." Was Joker's warning growl before he disappeared. He'd move to his next safe house soon. For now he was stuck in a violent trance as haunting laughter split through his mind. Doctor Quinzel. Stupid little girl falling in the dark because he'd led her down into it. He'd intended to leave her there. But she'd become something so much more; she made a home in his darkness. He'd started a joke, one that he'd played on himself.

* * *

((A/N: I was tempted to try and work this into something longer because it is the shortest thing I've written for a story but I think it's time to finish and shelve this one. Sorry for dropping the ball on this and the last chapter. Things just got crazy, and well, that's not stopping. Which is the reason I try to finish things before I actually start posting so I have plenty of time to fine tune as I go in case life happens. Ah well, next time. Still happy with the start of it. Maybe one day I'll rework it, maybe not. Tempted to do a one-shot for an idea I have about a conversation with Batman and Joker but that might have to wait.

Hope the mess isn't so bad this wasn't enjoyable. Thanks all to those who have commented, added to favourites, and followed. Constructive criticism is still cherished, and thank you for joining me.))


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